


Colony 21186D: Survival

by ArdentAspen2



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Autobots try to run governments, Cyborgs, F/M, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, IN SPACE!, Old old fic, Transformation, invisible things can kill you, man is this old, old fic, redshirts everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdentAspen2/pseuds/ArdentAspen2
Summary: After the War for All, colonies spread out from Earth and Cybertron, exploring the vast reaches of space, finding parts of the galaxy they didn't know existed. Those parts of the galaxy weren't as uninhabited as they thought. AU(this story is literally the first fic I ever wrote, way back in 2013. It's not my best but I'm still quite fond of it, which is why it's coming over here. Also, this was written back when Windblade was nothing more than a look and a vague description so I took considerable liberties with the character)





	1. Prologue

There had been no warning.

What had begun as a routine border patrol was quickly dissolving into a nightmare out of the depths of the Pit itself. Nebulous shapes oozed from the ground around the small party of mechs.

There was no way to classify them: their processors hummed and clicked uselessly with the knowledge that these creatures were somehow _wrong_. A brief impression of cruel faceplates caught from the corner of the optic, a sudden flash of needle-like teeth, a deep feeling of unease: these were the only observations the mechs were able to make.

Then mechs started dying.

The first to go was a rookie: a young Seeker far more at home in the stars than on the ground. He suddenly squealed in pain as one of his wings was bent in an unnatural angle.

He clawed at the invisible attacker, who severed his main fuel lines and left him on the barren face of the asteroid, his once-vibrant green armor fading to gunmetal grey. Shaken, the other five soldiers clustered together, knowing there was no way to prevent another attack.

"Switch to infrared vision." the commander ordered. To his credit, he kept his voice steady. He had seen violent off-linings before, and knew how to effectively shut down his emotional responses. Fear, however, turned out to be more powerful than he had reckoned.

The next casualty was a seasoned warrior of the old days with a reputation as deadly as the sector of space they had settled in. He had served in many wars, and seemed almost to have a sixth sense at times. He heard a subtle shift in the air current, felt a clinging horror wash over him.

There was barely time for the great triple-changer to shove another soldier down before they overtook him. The life he had attempted to save fared no better than he, and energon flowed freely into the sandy ground from their shattered limbs.

In a blind panic, one black and gold mech began to discharge his plasma cannon at the shifting shapes around them, blasting anything that moved. One shot clipped the canyon wall, the second made a new crater on the asteroid's surface.

He squeezed the trigger a third time, and a choked cry answered him. In horror, he watched his frame-brother totter and collapse to his knees, staring in shock at the hole in his midsection until his optics flickered out and he crashed to the ground.

The shooter howled his anguish to the stars and barely registered the hunters circling him, even as they tore his Spark from his chestplates. Energon dribbling from his mouth, he exhaled once and moved no more.

The commander trembled now, his armor rattling in sheer terror. All those under his command were dead, and the only logical conclusion was that he would soon follow. One of the forms brushed against his back struts, and he was left with the impression of armor as cold as ice.

"Alone..." a cruel voice whispered on the wind, "Are you frightened?..."

The commander reached for his internal com, readying himself to call for backup. His servos froze suddenly. The killers could track a mech just by one drop of energon, what would they do with a com signal? He dropped his hand to his side and hung his helm.

Something like a sob burst from his lips as talons viciously tore across one of his doorwings, ripping it from his chassis. Even in his final moments however, the patrol leader had one last stroke of luck. The spray of energon from his wound covered his nightmarish assailant, revealing its form for one brief moment. It was long enough for the mech, who called forth his twin blades and bisected the creature cleanly.

Roaring one last battle cry, he whirled in a tight circle, slashing at the air around him even as his leaking energon painted his silver armor blue. Enraged by the death of their comrade, the remaining foes converged upon their quarry, savagely shredding his defenses.

In the end, the largest of them held the commander up against the canyon wall and languidly released its cloaking device.

"You fight well." It stated in a harsh, guttural voice, "Better than most, in fact. We are willing to spare you-if you will comply with one demand."

The commander shut his optics, knowing what was coming and dreading the choice before him.

The hunter hissed into the defeated mech's audial fins, "Renounce your leader forever. Give your allegiance to us and you will live."

The words were empty to the mech. Even if they healed him, the shame of betraying his leader and leading five comrades to their deaths would stain him forever.

With a last prayer to his Maker for guidance and forgiveness, he made his decision. He spat a mouthful of energon into his captor's faceplate and stared defiantly into its cold optics.

"Long live Megatronus Prime!"


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet some of the cast

**_Colony Outpost: Gallimimus, Quadrant 12_ **

_"Sector Sweep 12C, Base, do you copy?"_

The young woman lounging at the battered desk yelped as her com unit crackled to life. Flailing her arms to keep from toppling over, she slapped at the button on the outdated piece of equipment.

"Outpost Gallimimus responding. Sector Sweep 12C, what is your status?" She yawned.

_"Alert and awake, Ensign, unlike some,"_ the caller sounded amused.

Ensign Marge O'Connor flushed clear to the roots of her shaggy hair. "Sorry about that, Captain. We don't see much action out here, see, and a gal gets mighty weary..."

_"Spare me the dramatics, O'Connor. We're heading in from a survey, and in need of decontamination."_

Marge winced. Their detox chamber was...old at best. "Roger that, Sector Sweep," she sighed, "What's your ETA?"

_"Approximately one hour,"_ Captain C_R42, better known to humans as Centurion, replied.

"One hour. Noted. What are your coordinates?" O'Connor booted an old laptop into life and entered the answer into the tracking system.

"Looks like there's some kind of particle storm headed your way," she remarked, "I'd pick up the pace if I were you."

The com was silent for a moment or two, then the captain answered, _"Duly noted. Continue to track our progress in case of incidents,"_ his voice softened, _"Don't worry, Maggie. I'll bring everyone home safe."_

"Ach déan cinnte "gach duine" folaíonn tú, daidí!" the woman muttered rebelliously. _("Just make sure "everyone" includes you!")_

The captain did not reply, and the com unit flickered off.

"If you keep sassing superior officers, you're gonna be stuck out here until doom cracks!"

The harsh voice was not a surprise to the ensign. She aimed a good-natured kick at the old generator in the corner.

It huffed in irritation, and with a grinding and whirring of gears and sliding metal, it transformed into a bipedal creature about seven feet tall. She braced her servos behind her back and stretched, making a cracking noise.

"Oof!" Gigawatt made a face and brushed flakes of rust from her stocky arms. "Lord have mercy, something better happen soon, 'cause I'm just about rusted stiff."

Marge snorted and handed an oil can to Gigawatt. Painted on the side were the smiling faces of Dorothy, Toto, the Cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. The Autobot was not amused.

"One of these days, kid, one of these days..." she warned.

Marge snorted. "You love me, admit it."

"Of _course I do_ ," Gigawatt cooed sarcastically, "Humans that look like sparklings don't freak me out at all, and I just want to pinch your little cheeks!"

The rusty old bot sent a jolt of electricity through the laptop, zapping the humans fingers. "Never was the maternal type." she laughed at Marge's irritation.

They bickered back and forth with increasing fervor until they were interrupted by the staccato pulse of the proximity sensors.

"Ohhh what the scrap what the scrap what the scrap," Gigawatt muttered, sliding over to look at the monitor.   
"Sector Sweep 12C, what is your ETA?" she barked, nearly knocking the com over with the force of her shout.  
O'Connor winced. The laser tripwires were buzzing dully in the early warning zone, 100 kilometers from Outpost Gallimimus.

_"Forty minutes, give or take,"_ it was a different voice than before. Gigawatt briefly registered that the speaker was Dean Inoue, one of the human team members. _"You sound worried, Outpost Gallimimus,"_ Dean observed, _"is there a problem?"_

Marge hummed an affirmative and stared intently at the screen. "We have a perimeter breach in the early warning zone."

O'Connor kicked off from the desk and sent her chair rolling to the other side of the dark and cluttered room. As she dug through shelves of disused gear, she filled Inoue in on the details.

"Two life forms, or maybe one really big one -- you know how old scanners can be -- crossed the laser lines about ten minutes ago. No faction tags detected."

A murmur of voices buzzed through the speakers, and Inoue handed the com off to the captain.

_"Say again, Outpost Gallimimus, say again?"_

Gigawatt scowled. "One or two large life forms, no faction tags, broke the perimeter eleven minutes ago. Nothing on the security came yet, I estimate thirteen minutes before they get here."

_"Do you have enough energon for a ground bridge?"_ the captain asked. There wasn't supposed to be anything on this rock that hadn't come with their freighters. Whatever was headed for the base was an unknown entity, and that worried the captain.

"Energon? Centurion, are you out of your processor?!" Gigawatt scoffed, "I live on crude oil because we barely have enough energon to power the door locks! Only way we're getting out of here is on hover-sled."

o-O-o-O-o

Centurion pinched the bridge of his non-existent nose in mimicry of a human. Primus help him if he had to endure one more tirade about energon rationing...

o-O-o-O-o

_"Shut down all functions save for life support, surveillance cameras, and defense systems. Don't leave the outpost, we're on our way. And Maggie,"_ Marge looked up at the sound of her name. _"Maggie, for once, don't argue with Gigawatt. Stay inside. Sector Sweep out."_

o-O-o-O-o

Centurion shut down his internal com with a grim expression on his faceplate.

"Captain?"

One of the Cybertronian members of Sector Sweep, a Vehicon femme, looked worried. "Is something wrong?"

The captain blew out a heavy exvent. "Endline, you and Inoue take the others ahead to the base. Everyone needs to have at least one weapon handy, as well as their Ghost Specs."

Endline's crimson optics widened. "Do you think this has anything to do with the attacks in the Kaonian provinces?" she asked.

The older mech set his mouth in a tight line. "Let's not jump to any conclusions, Endline. We just don't want to take any chances, that's all. If you get there before me, tell my daughter not to worry, will you?"

He turned and began to scale the mesa they'd trekked past.

"Sir?" Endline exclaimed in surprise, "Where are you going?"

The words drifted down as the mech climbed higher: "I'm going to call a Prime."


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally catch up to some familiar faces and learn that life after TFP took a weird turn.  
> But they're all used to it by now.  
> Mostly.

**_Quadrant 12A:_ **

**_Planet Ismaros_ **

The city shone like a gem from the hilltop, a warm and inviting light beckoning travelers toward her. Her gleaming spires and silver domes rose proudly above the lush gardens and farmland below - a testament to hard work and stellar craftsmanship.  
Five years previously, when the Allied Exploration units had discovered the uninhabited planetoids to be hospitable to humans and Cybertronians alike, colonists had flocked to the site to form a kind of shanty town. As the months passed, combined use of resources and manpower (and mechpower) turned the collection of shacks and warehouses into a town.

The town became a city, and the city became a colony within two years. The settlers optimistically named it Eden, although certain members of the population maintained that doing so was about the same as christening a ship "Hindenburg II". In the slowly forming Human/Autobot Territories, Eden stood in for a Capital until something more official could be found.

Arcee stared moodily at the garden fountain before her, knees pulled up to her chin. Around her, music drifted through the air, Cybertronians and humans went about their daily tasks and chatted cheerfully as they passed each other on the cobblestone pathways. If she strained her audial receptors, she could just pick up the sounds of children of both species repeating their lessons in some outdoor class -- a generation being raised to be perfectly comfortable with members of another species.

It was peaceful, idyllic. Arcee almost wanted to purge her tank, but was immediately ashamed for thinking it. Peace for her people, for Jack's people. Wasn't that what they'd fought for all those years? And yet she hardly saw the members of Team Prime anymore, and only the humans who had ever been in combat seemed to know what to say if she brought up the War. The others seemed to want to move hurriedly past the topic. Arcee would've discussed it with her partner, but even he couldn't be there all the time.

Jack had begun to spend several afternoons a week - consisting of twelve days on this planet, not seven - with Optimus Prime, learning by observation what he might be expected to do as an honorary Prime, should Optimus ever be called away.

Arcee wasn't exactly jealous, but if asked, she wouldn't say she didn't miss spending time with her human.

"What's wrong, Partner?" Jack's gentle voice broke into her thoughts.

Arcee grunted. "Who says anything's wrong?" she grumbled.

The human laughed and sat down on the worn stone step next to her. "Maybe," he said playfully, "because you're staring at the fountain as if you want to crush it, grind it into a hundred million tiny pieces, and blast it into oblivion?"

The femme's optics lit up at the suggestion. "Can I?"

Jack choked on a snort and cleared his throat in an attempt to sound dignified. "I cannot condone a course of action that might place another in harm's way," he offered.

"Oh come on," Arcee snorted, "Who's going to be in harm's way?"

The serious facade dropped. "Us, if Mom or Prowl find out we were vandalizing fountains," Jack widened his eyes and held up splayed fingers to emphasize mock horror.

Once his partner cracked a smile, Jack relaxed and leaned closer to her, serious once more. "Come on, 'Cee. We've been partners for three years: I know when something is bothering you!"

Arcee lifted her helm and gazed out over the terraced gardens and waterfalls of Eden. "Jack..." she whispered, "Are you happy here?" Jack looked confused until she clarified. "I mean, can you, with utmost certainty, look me in the optics and tell me that you are content to live like this?"

_Ah. So that's what this is about._ Jack thought to himself.

He understood why Arcee was asking. She had lived for so long as a warrior that the sudden peace was strange -- jarring, even. It was the same for nearly all of Team Prime, really, hence why the Wreckers had volunteered to explore the asteroid belt: they could not see themselves settling down to a farmer or artisan's life.

Arcee mistook her partner's silent contemplation for uncertainty. "Look, I'm not denying that this place is a dream come true. It's everything our peoples could have hoped for when we left Earth. It's just that in only a few years, I get the feeling that life is going to get easier and easier...and I don't think that's a good thing."

Jack stood up and stretched, straightening his blue tunic. "You think they'll become lazy."

Arcee shrugged, frustrated. "Maybe, maybe not. Only Alpha Trion can see the future. I can only tell you what I see now."

"And what do you see?" her partner asked softly, placing a hand on her arm.

"I see a civilization living like those hairy-footed things that live under hills in Raf's book," she said with a bitter chuckle, "And if war ever comes again, no one will be ready."

They stood together like that, watching the setting sun's rays catch the falling water and turn it to living fire. "Optimus knows what he's doing," Jack murmured reassuringly, "I don't think he would let something like that happen." At that very moment, a blue mech came charging up the steps in a clatter of metal, earning some disapproving looks from others who had come to the gardens for solitude and contemplation.

_"Captain-Darby-sir-and-Arcee-oh-my-Primus-this-is-such-an-honor!I-have-an-urgent-message-from-the-Prime!"_

The partners stood in bemused silence before Jack asked, "Is he speaking some branch dialect of Cybertronian?"

Arcee shook her helm. "No, that's Blurr. He always talks that fast. But I thought," she directed the question to the messenger, "that you were stationed in Quadrant 12B?"

_"No-ma'am-just-got-called-back-in,-I'm-to-run-messages-through-the-provinces."_ The young soldier looked a little crestfallen.

"I swear he's not using real words." Jack muttered.

Arcee smirked and asked Blurr for the message. He took a deep breath, and with a visibly painful effort, forced himself to speak slowly.

"The Prime wants you both to meet him at the archives. Something about sending a team to bring reserve energon to one of the 12C outposts."

"Ouch." Arcee commented dryly, "That kind of hurt to watch."

Nodding their thanks to the messenger, Arcee and Jack hurried up the rest of the stairs to a walkway several stories above the gardens. Arcee transformed into her vehicle mode, and with Jack clinging to the handlebars, drove as quickly as she dared to the Central Archives building in the heart of Eden. Several people had to jump out of the way and shook their fists at the pair, but they did not stop. It did not do to keep a Prime waiting.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, once again, the chapter is short. But this time we get to see Optimus, at least.

Optimus Prime watched the hustle and bustle of Eden from the window of the archives building. To the casual observer, he seemed like a pillar of strength and wisdom, but one who had known him long enough might have recognized signs of weariness. His shoulders sagged imperceptibly, as if under the weight of some heavy burden.

"You look tired," a feminine voice floated up from near his pedes.

Optimus glanced down and nodded politely. "Good evening, Doctor Darby. I am well."

The middle aged woman shook her head. "You aren't. When was the last time you rested? And don't give me some excuse about not having time, stubborn mech."

"I am no more stubborn than you, Doctor. You really needn't worry for me," Optimus argued politely.

The doctor patted his foot affectionately. "I worry for you," she complained, "because you are evidently incapable of worrying for yourself."

Her smirk faded. "...Optimus, are you really going to send Jack and Arcee all the way out to Sector 12C?"

Optimus knelt to look the woman in the eye. "It is best that Jackson learns as much as he can about the territories; just as Mikoto and Rafael are learning by travel, so must he."

"But it's so _far_!" Dr. Darby's voice cracked, "and you know it's dangerous!"

"June."

Optimus's gentle baritone reverberated in the air. "Have I ever knowingly endangered a human?"  
June mutely shook her head.

"Would I ever consciously put Jackson in danger?" He asked her again. The woman closed her eyes and turned away.

"Does Jack really need to go?" she whispered, "You could just send someone else."

She was being selfish, and she knew it. Deep down she would alway trust Jack's godfather, but her heart was warning her of something and she wasn't sure what it was.

"June," Optimus said gently, "I feel as strongly as you the need to shelter and protect y-... _our_...child. We share that responsibility. But you also know that if Jackson is ever to stand alongside me as a Prime, it would be advantageous for him to have a knowledge of life beyond Eden. Even if that knowledge might one day bring him into contact with danger."

"I know." Dr. Darby wrapped her arms around her middle. "I know," she repeated. She turned slightly watery eyes to meet the Prime's optics. "Jack wouldn't care about the danger. He'd face an Insecticon with a sling and a stone if you told him to." Her voice held no accusation, only a wistful acceptance.

"I assure you," Optimus rumbled, surprised, "that I had no intentions of asking him to do any such thing."

June made a face that might have been the beginning of a smile. She smoothed down her emerald dress and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just...promise me that you'll look after him? When I can't?" she begged.

"Always," said the Prime.

This time the human did smile as she turned to go. "Goodnight, Orion," she called affectionately.

"Good night, June," the red and blue mech returned with a nod.

But even as the door swished shut behind June, worry crept into Optimus's optics once more. He too had an unmistakable feeling that something was wrong, tugging at his processor. The hum of a motor signaled the arrival of both his SIC and his protege, temporarily pushing his fears away.

"Sir!"

Both the boy and the femme skidded to a rather impressive halt as Arcee transformed mid-brake and Jack rolled out of the way. The smothered grins and glances at each other from the corners of optics warned the Prime that there had likely been some mostly harmless shenanigans on the way over, for which there would probably be an uproar later. Ah, more paperwork. How nice of them.

He raised his eyebrow at the pair of friends, but spoke as if he had noticed nothing unusual.

"I assume Blurr informed you as to the nature of this summons." Without waiting for a reply, he continued, turning to once again stare out the window as he spoke.

"Some of the outposts in Sector 12C are critically low on energon. There is not enough at present for any viable defense system, or even to sustain a single Cybertronian. You and one other soldier will deliver six reserve cases of synthetic energon to Outpost Gallimimus on the edge of the wastelands, and then return to Eden with to report on the status and functionality of the base."  
Before they could get too excited about a chance to leave the colony, Optimus held up a hand.  
"You leave in thirteen hours, I suggest getting some rest before you meet with Springer in the hangar. There is one matter, however, that I wish to make perfectly clear before you leave."

"What is it, Optimus?" Arcee asked. She glanced down at Jack, who shrugged.

Optimus faced them and answered in a serious, almost stern voice. "Sector 12C is neutral space, shared by the Kaon provinces and the Allied Exploration colonies. You may meet beings you once fought against. Perhaps some that might even be responsible for deaths. You must resist the temptation to remember old grudges, for we cannot afford to begin another war."

The pair promised not to start anything -- Optimus noted that they didn't promise not to fight if another instigated an incident, and he said so.

Jack flushed slightly. "I promise that if there is any faction-related fighting, I will stay out of it," he assured his mentor, "other than trying to talk the aggressors down."

"Take extra caution," Optimus warned them both, "There have been reports of savage attacks by unknown entities in Sectors 12D and E, and the responsible parties could very well have moved to other Sectors. If you witness anything out of the ordinary, or feel uncomfortable at all, you are to bridge yourselves and anyone with you to the nearest fortified location immediately."

He knelt to put one hand on Arcee's shoulder, and scooped Jack up in the other hand. "Be careful, remain alert. You should be ready to leave 12C within a week." He touched the boy's forehead with one massive finger in blessing for a moment, then lowered the human to the ground once more and repeated the gesture with Arcee.  
"May Primus speed you on your journey and bring you home safely." he said gravely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optimus holds a rather tricky political position here, as the Colonies aren't exactly Cybertronian jurisdiction but aren't exactly Earth's jurisdiction either. They sort of made their own charter with laws lifted from their respective worlds and made something new with it. Then the Council sort of dropped it all onto the shoulders of the most responsible-looking person they could find.  
> As such, Optimus has his hands full with both human matters and Cybertronian, and is still trying to find the balance between them.
> 
> At the same time, he still wonders sometimes why June asked him to be Jack's godfather, and he's trying to balance those responsibilities as well.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions are made, Seekers are bratty, and Endline picks a fight

**_Outpost: Gallimimus_ **

"Captain's back!" Dean Inoue called from his position as lookout.

There was a flurry of activity within the cramped warehouse. Inoue hopped down from the window sill and commed the guardhouse, where Marge and Gigawatt were still monitoring the mysterious life forms.

When Inoue and Endline had led Sector Sweep 12C to the base while Centurion called Prime, the mysterious signal had retreated to a nearby mesa. It had waited there until they were all inside, but it was starting to circle closer again.

Apollo, one of the Cybertronians, stepped outside with his plasma cannon at the ready. A gold colored car sped in through the gates, raising a cloud of dust as it did. Immediately the laser lines closed over the gate once more and the car transformed into Centurion.

"Apollo," he greeted the shuttle-Transformer warily, "is everything alright here?"

The taciturn explorer nodded once and beckoned the captain inside. Marge had left her post by this time, and no sooner did Centurion sit down on a crate than the girl launched herself at him. He had the presence of mind to catch her before she fell on her face.

"Told you I'd come home safe, didn't I Maggie?" he smiled.

"You did, yeah," Marge sat on his hand and beamed up at him, "Mum would've killed you if you hadn't."

Some of the other team members turned away, whether it was to give them privacy or because they were uncomfortable with Cybertronian/Human families was not clear.

"What's the status of the unidentified life forms?" Centurion asked, a bit more business-like now that he was certain his daughter was safe.

"They retreated to a mesa, but I think they're coming back, sir." The primary data organizer, Zettabyte, spoke crisply and efficiently, as was her nature. "Did you get a message through?" she asked. The captain nodded.

"I spoke with Optimus Prime," he began, and was soon interrupted by varying exclamations of disbelief.

"Mr. High-and-Mighty Prime actually spoke to you?" The speaker was the team's main scout, a woman named Irene Santiago. "I'd have thought he'd be too busy running Eden!"

"Yeah, and we're the backwater group!" her Cybertronian partner, Geist, agreed.

Centurion held up a hand for silence. "It's true, I did speak to Optimus Prime. I told him we were critically low on supplies and unable to properly defend our base. He's sending three soldiers with reserve supplies; they'll be here tomorrow." A chorus of cheers filled the warehouse.

* * *

Jack, Arcee, and Springer walked through the groundbridge into a dusty red desert. "Looks like Jasper," the femme commented.

"Jasper? That backwoods place on Earth you all camped out at?" Springer idly twirled a blaster around his servos.

"Would you quit that? You're making me nervous," Jack grumbled. He shook the oxygen mask off his face once the readings proved the atmosphere to be breathable and stepped away from the mech to his left.

The green triple-changer shrugged and subspaced the weapon. "Place looks pretty dead."

Arcee reached down and shouldered a crate of energon. "Yeah, well Outpost Gallimimus will look the same if we don't get these supplies to them."

Springer snorted and took the case from her, ignoring her outraged expression.

"Listen, Sweetspark. No offense, but you don't have the stamina to make a haul like this." Springer placed the box on the ground and transformed into his land vehicle mode, an armored car.

"Hey kid, mind loading the crates?" he asked. Jack shrugged as if to say _oh, why not_ and piled the supplies into Springer's interior.

A somewhat indignant Arcee had pulled up coordinates to Outpost Gallimimus in the meantime. Once the location was set, she transformed into her motorcycle mode. As soon as Jack was settled, the trio sped away.

"So. Springer." Jack remarked casually.

"He's a good soldier, Jack," the femme half-heartedly defended him, "just...overconfident. Like others we've known."

The young man smiled, knowing that Arcee was referring to Smokescreen and the days when he used to ramble on about destiny.

"I'd give him a chance before deciding what you think of him," Arcee advised, "he's a good mech to have at your back."

From ahead of them, Springer shouted back, "Come on, slowpokes! While we're young!"

Even in vehicle mode, Arcee twitched. "Overconfident," she repeated, "and disrespectful and rude."

"Hmm. Nice guy," her partner muttered dryly, "Either I'm starting to like him, or I'm going to offline him myself!"

* * *

Centurion and Apollo stood at the gates of the compound, one watching the mesas and one watching the flatlands. Shading his optics with one hand, Apollo leaned forward and pointed to a cloud of dust on the eastern horizon.

"I see it," his captain acknowledged, "here's hoping its the supplies, eh?"

The transport mech nodded solemnly and returned to scrutinizing the surrounding bluffs.

"Gigawatt," Centurion commed the guardhouse, "Incoming from the east. What've you got?"

"Three signals, all Autobot," the crabby femme replied.

"Wait until they've reached the gate and identified themselves, then release the laser gates." Centurion instructed. He watched the cloud of dust grow larger and solidify into a blue motorcycle with a human passenger and a green armored car. The gold mech waved a friendly greeting as they approached the gate.

"Sector Sweep 12C, I presume?" Jack swung off of Arcee and offered a polite salute to a fellow captain.

"That's right. You three bringing a shipment?" the other cheerfully asked. In answer, Arcee removed an energon cube from Springer's interior and held it up to the fence.

"See for yourself."

Within moments, the gates were open and Springer had driven through to be unloaded by the humans in the base. Before Arcee could enter the grounds, however, something strange happened. A sound of roaring engines filled the air, and three aircraft flew dangerously low over the ground.

One of them transformed into a scrawny grey and white mech, who snatched the cube from Arcee's hand and flew off again, cackling obnoxiously.

"What the?!" Arcee called forth a blaster and aimed it at the retreating figures as Gigawatt belatedly announced three Kaonian spark signatures.

"Well?" One of the humans, a large man with green hair, marched out of the base scowling, "Let's go get those punks!"

Arcee shook her helm. "It was just one cube. It's not worth starting a fight over."

The human stared up at her incredulously. "You don't get out much, do you?" he asked.

" _Petrovych!_ " Santiago hissed from inside the base, chagrined, "That's Arcee! You don't talk to her like that!"

Arcee was not impressed. "Why do you say I don't get out much?" she asked calmly.

Petrovych pointed at the six crates of energon cubes being moved into the warehouse. "Those crates? That's all we have. We used our last reserves last night to power door locks. Every cube is important, as we cannot count on anyone bringing supplies."

Springer transformed out of vehicle mode and stretched. "Alright, so we get it back, then what? Come on, maybe those guys don't have any energon either."

Petrovych looked uncomfortable. "I suppose that could be the case," he admitted, "but the manner in which they took it suggests that they were merely thieves."

"Fair enough," Jack allowed, "that laugh didn't sound like a starving Seeker to me."

Centurion grumbled under his breath and ushered his team members back into the compound. "Standing around debating isn't going to bring them back, and I'm not going to risk my team over something stupid like this."

He pointed up at the cliffs. "We've got unidentified, possibly hostile life forms up in the mesas watching the outpost, and I don't need anyone getting killed on my watch!"

Arcee looked up at the bluffs and remembered Optimus's warning. If the perpetrators of the Kaon attacks were in this sector, then the thieves were in as much danger as any of them.

"Springer, Jack, let's go." she said firmly, "Those three need shelter too."

Endline stepped up, with Inoue perched on her shoulder. "Captain, may we go as well?" the Vehicon asked. Centurion was suspicious, as Endline made no secret of her disdain for most Kaonians.

Reluctantly, he agreed, warning the pair that any hostile actions would be severely dealt with. Arcee and Springer each had a blaster at the ready, aimed in the general direction of the cliffs, while Jack scanned the area for the three Seekers. An odd chill seemed to float about the clifftops of the asteroid, occasionally manifesting as a pale blue fog near their feet. Nearly an hour later, the three were located in a box canyon some miles away.

Arcee made a show of lowering her weapon before addressing the three young Kaonians, barely even old enough to fly. "Hi there. My name is Arcee, and you've got something that belongs to Outpost Gallimimus."

The grey and white Seeker squeaked in dismay and hid the half-empty cube behind his back. "No we don't!" he lied.

"Liar!" Endline snorted, "it's behind your wings!"

The second-biggest of the three stepped in front of the lying mech. "Don't call my brother a liar, _Ahtzobaht_!" she snarled.

"Well in that case, I can't call him a Kaonian, can I?" Endline retorted.

"Hey!" Jack shouted, catching the combatants' attention, "We are _not_ enemies! We didn't come here to start a fight," he glared sternly at Endline, who backed down after a tense moment.

"We came to make sure you have shelter," Arcee picked up where her partner left off, "There are some suspicious life signs stalking the base from the cliffs, and we don't want anyone getting caught out here unprepared."

"Psh!" The third Seeker made a dismissive sound and waved his hand. "We don't need protecting, we're Kaon Province Seekers! Nothing can catch us!"

"Except three Cybertronians and two humans on foot, just now," Springer chuckled.

Arcee sighed and addressed the Trine. "Alright, your choice. If you change your mind, you know where to go." Beckoning her team, Arcee turned away and began to leave.

"Yeah, run back home, _Ahtzobaht_ Blue-Optics!" The femme Seeker taunted.

Endline froze.

" _Scrap_." Inoue muttered.

The Kaonians grinned, pleased to have struck a nerve. Endline smiled back. And promptly punched the Seeker femme in the faceplate. The younger Cybertronian reeled backwards in shock, clutching her face.

"Sunstorm! Ramjet! She hit me!" she wailed piteously.

Her brothers responded with "righteous" indignation, launching themselves at the Autobots. "Autobot brutality! Autobot brutality!"

Ramjet fired short laser bursts at them from a wrist-mounted gun. They weren't particularly powerful lasers, nor were direct hits terribly painful, but he was persistent. The Autobots and humans ducked the stinging rounds and dodged Sunstorm's wild punches.

Jack radioed the base in the fracas. "Outpost Gallimimus, we need a ground bridge," he declared in grim exasperation. So much for keeping the peace. One way or another, Optimus was going to hear about this.

Arcee pulled Endline away from the fight and pushed her down behind a boulder until the bridge appeared. Once through, the group turned as one to glare at the Vehicon femme.

"Alright, soldier," Arcee said coldly, "This is the part where you tell me what you thought you were doing."

"I accept responsibility for my actions." Endline's voice betrayed no emotion.

"By which you mean you're not sorry," the superior officer moved to stand in front of the offender, hands on hips. "I'm not asking you if you're sorry, I want to know what you were thinking!"

Endline's jaw tightened. " _Ahtzobaht_. It sounds like 'Autobot', but that's not what they were saying. It's a Decepticon insult. It means "one who is weak.""

Arcee's voice remained serious, but softened just a little bit. "I know what it means. I've had it directed at me often enough, after all."

Her voice hardened again. "But that was during the _war_! This is a time of truce. You just started a fight in a neutral space!"

Centurion, who had come into the room as soon as they bridged back, staggered back in shock. "She did _what_?!"

Jack folded his hands behind his back. "I don't know what your history with Kaonians is, but I suggest you learn to control it so that next time someone insults you, we don't end up with an international incident."

Centurion groaned. "Endline, you're confined to base until further notice," he ordered. The accused snapped a crisp salute, and wordlessly marched out of the room-scarlet optics still blazing with fury.

"I apologize," Centurion said, shifting uncomfortably. "Out here, we're more of a family than a military group, and sometimes I've let things slide where perhaps I ought to have cracked down."

"Don't worry, we know the feeling," Arcee sighed, but gave the mortified commander a weary smile. "I suggest talking to her about...whatever that was though. Take it from someone who knows. It's just going to get worse if it's not dealt with soon."

On the far side of the warehouse, where the rest of the group had been studiously pretending to be invisible, an alarm sounded. Zettabyte tapped the screen, then pounded it.

" _Aahhhh! Zhè jiàn shìqíng dàodǐ shì zěnme huí shì?!_ "* she growled, "There's nothing out there! Stop freaking out!"

Springer wandered over and examined the faulty equipment. "You sure it's malfunctioning?" he asked, "Let me see it."

On the battered screen, one untagged blip was disappearing and reappearing. Each time it got a little closer to the perimeter. "Ah great. Just great." Springer turned to shout, "Folks, we're going to have company!"

Then the lights went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *translation of Zettabyte's exclamation: "Ahh! What's the matter with this thing!"


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things that go bump in the night make a move, Seekers get into trouble, and we find out where Megatron has been this whole time.

"What's going on?" Arcee demanded.

The backup power hadn't kicked in yet, even after ten seconds of near-total darkness. Tension was rising with the certainty that something -- _anything_ \-- should have been booting back up again.

Springer frowned. "Look, the groundbridge and the monitors are still functioning." He hurried to the console and began pulling up diagnostic programs.

Suddenly, a harsh grating noise began to emanate from the floor. Every weapon available was instantly pointed towards a service hatch next to the northern wall. As they waited nervously, the grate rose to reveal Marge O'Connor and Gigawatt. They looked terrified.

"Dad, something cut the power to the guardhouse!" Marge hissed, scurrying towards Centurion's silhouette.

"And we mean _literally_ cut it!" Gigawatt gulped, "There're claw marks the size of my head in those walls!"

"Claw marks?!" the others gasped.

"Alright, nobody blow a fuse," Springer turned away from the monitor. "It cut off our electricity but we still have energon-powered defenses. If we need to, we can bridge out."

"To where?" It sounded like Santiago's voice, but with only the glow of monitors and optics, and the rasp of unease lingering on everyone's tongues, no one was sure. "We can't abandon Outpost Gallimimus! We can't even see anything out there anyway. It's just a power failure...no need to be scared.."

Jack twitched irritably. Something was bothering him about this far more than humanity's ingrained fear of the dark. Something _bad_ was out there, he was positive. Sometimes, it seemed like humans were naturally more receptive than Cybertronians to the presence of evil. Jack ran a hand through his short black hair and sighed. _Optimus would know what to do_ , he told himself, _what would Optimus do?_

He reached up towards his partner and tapped on her arm four times. It was their private signal for _"We need to talk."_ Arcee nodded and he led her to a slightly more private section of the warehouse, where she crouched in front of him.

"What is it, Jack?" Bathed in the eerie blue glow of Arcee's optics, the young man held a finger to his lips.

"Did you do any reading on the Kaon province attacks before we left Eden?" he asked in a hushed voice. Arcee nodded.

"Better safe than sorry," she murmured, "Why?"

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions," Jack whispered, "But those unknown contacts are still out there. And cutting off power usually precedes an attack, in our experience."

Jack frowned and shivered, barely perceptibly, but enough that his partner noticed. "Are you cold?" she asked, then noticed that the other six humans in the base looked equally uncomfortable.

Geist seemed to notice to notice the same thing, as he suddenly facetiously asked, "A little warm in here, isn't it?"

The humans responded with varying questions regarding Geist's sanity and the state of his atmospheric sensors. "It's freezing in here!" growled one of them, a man named Justin Carter, "What's wrong with you?!"

Springer shot Arcee a meaningful look from across the room. In the incident reports from Megatronus Prime's territories, extreme cold was always the last report from the victims before they were attacked. If the humans could feel it, they weren't experiencing sensor failure.

Jack climbed up the stairs to the computer console. "Springer, are our communications online?" he asked quietly.

"Gimme a minute, it's sluggish," the soldier replied, "You gotta baby it a little." He then demonstrated 'babying' by kicking the unit.

Centurion moved from team-mate to team-mate in the dark, quietly whispering commands. All five Cybertronians faced the walls with weapons at the ready, while their human partners aimed laser rifles at the doors.

The captain strode to the console. "Captain Darby," he said calmly, "Would you mind filling me in?"

The human nodded. "Springer re-routed the energon reserves into a force-field around this warehouse. With your permission, I'd like to contact the nearest fortified settlement with Bridge capabilities."

"You believe we should evacuate?" Centurion asked, worry beginning to show in his optics.

Springer cleared his vents nervously. "Not to worsen matters, but the unidentified signals have multiplied." His optics widened and he cursed softly. "I don't believe this! They're shredding through the defenses!" Sure enough, a flickering warning on the screen began to warn of imminent failure.

Centurion turned his gaze to Arcee, as she was the highest ranked individual present. "It's your team, your call," Arcee crossed her arms, "but in any situation where you find yourself dealing with an unknown threat, your first priority is the safety of your team."

Centurion nodded. "Make the call," he urged. He then summoned an energon mace and moved to guard the doors.

Jack scanned various data and documents, eyes skimming the Autobot glyphs until he found what he was looking for. "Here," he spoke softly to Arcee, "Keller's Holt on Argos. It's the only place close enough to bridge to."

Arcee grimaced. "It doesn't exactly have a stellar reputation Jack," she cautioned.

"Hey," Springer interrupted, "I'll take pirates and scoundrels over the boogeyman any day!" A plaintive-sounding wail from the computer announced the failing of the shields. Fear bubbled and roiled in human and Cybertronian alike.

Jack swallowed hard and sent the communique. "Keller's Holt, this is Captain Jackson Darby at Outpost Gallimimus. We are under attack and require an emergency groundbridge to your location."

_"And?"_

The voice on the other end sounded bored.

Jack's eyes narrowed and his voice grew cold. "And we're not stupid. We know there are slavers and pirates in your ports. Any attempt at an ambush on your end and I'll bring the Iacon Guard down on you." The receptionist was suddenly much more polite.

_"Optimus Prime's personal guard? You don't say! Sending proper coordinates now, sir. Safe travels!"_

The coordinates flashed up onto the screen and Zettabyte quickly set the groundbridge accordingly. "You are not just a captain," she observed quietly. The human nodded once.

"I only pull rank as a desperate measure," he said softly.

"Enough chatter, we need to leave!" barked Centurion, herding the others towards the bridge.

Petrovych gaped. "But Captain! Our research, our data-"

"-is expendable. You are not." Apollo spoke for the first time, making everyone jump.

Despite the imminent danger, Santiago managed to chuckle. "You're so quiet, I keep forgetting you're there, Apollo." Centurion ignored this.

"Standard sweep protocols," he ordered, "One Human, one Cybertronian. Weapons ready, we don't know who's on the other end." He waited until all of Sector Sweep 12C had bridged out before he left. He watched with hard optics as the walls began to buckle and tear beneath the onslaught of the mysterious attackers, then bridged away.

He never heard the animalistic cry of fury that echoed through the shattered base.

o-O-o-O-o

* * *

From the air, the three young Kaonians watched in horror as the outpost fell in a mass of flames.

"They'll blame us for this," Sunstorm whispered soberly.

"Not if you both do _exactly_ as I say," his younger sister growled. She led the other two Seekers to a small asteroid orbiting the desert planet.

"Listen, this is neutral space," Slipstream reasoned in a slightly panicked voice, "We had as much of a right to be here as anyone! If anyone asks, Ramjet does the talking." She elbowed their youngest brother in the tank. He sniffled, working up some coolant tears.

"I just don't know what went wrong!" he whimpered in a childish voice, "We were just playing tag in the canyons, when those Autobots attacked us!"

Sunstorm and Slipstream nodded. "Work on the tears," Sunstorm advised, "Because the Prime is going to find out about this sooner or later. I'd rather it was us who told him."

* * *

Sunstorm was too late, unfortunately. Megatronus had already heard about the neutral zone skirmish from Soundwave, and he was furious. He had opened a hailing frequency to any Kaonians in the 12C area to confront those responsible. When he saw the trine, he stifled a curse.

How fitting, he thought. Of _course_ the miscreants would be Starscream's unholy spawn!  
" _M-megatronus P-p-prime, sir!_ " The scrawny one, Ramjet, looked like he wanted to explain.

"Be still!" the former warlord snarled. The young ones cowered before his fearsome visage.

"I fail to understand how this could have happened," Megatronus's voice was deceptively calm. "Have you no duties to perform, that you waste time in other sectors? Is there not danger enough at home that you seek it abroad?"

With each accusation his voice grew harsher. "Have you no respect, that you _shame_ our _nation_ by provoking a fight with our allies in neutral space?!"

The Seekers' wings wilted.

"Return to Pred'akngard," the angry Prime ordered, "and report to Blitzwing because _Primus knows_ where your Carrier is!"

He cut off the transmission with a grunt and whirled to face an image of Starscream.

"This is _your_ fault!" he thundered. "Conniving overconfident _fool_! And you've passed those traits to your demonic offspring!"

Seething, Megatronus paced the stone hallway before turning savagely on the SIC again. "It wasn't enough for you to interfere with my plans every step of the war, was it? To undermine everything I did until the Sleeper rose? No, you had to teach your young to do it as well! Well? Answer me!" 

Starscream's expression never changed and he remained stonily silent.

"Coward!" The Prime suddenly screamed, enraged, "Sparkless weakling! I _hate_ you!"

Abruptly, his expression changed, and he raised a faltering hand. "Starscream I...I didn't mean that, I swear. It's just that...being a Prime is so much harder than being a warlord. There are rules, standards I am bound to follow."

Megatronus shook his helm. "The young ones simply do not understand that. I...wish you were here to tell them, old friend."

He tenderly rested a hand on the carved stone helm of Starscream that adorned his grave. "Primus knows their carrier certainly doesn't care enough to reign them in."

With a weary groan, the massive warrior seated himself beside the elaborate tomb. "I never had the chance to apologize," he said reflectively, "You know, for...everything. I would've told you that you were right about me the whole time."

He chuckled bitterly. "But then, I get the feeling you knew anyway."

Pensive once more, Megatronus turned his gaze to the galleries of the hall and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Megatron is a Prime now. It's explained a teensy bit more in a later chapter, but this is something that happened during the alluded-to "War for All". In this universe, having only one Prime is a sign of something being terribly wrong with the universe. More than one is needed, to share the burdens of leadership and whatnot.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang makes a brief side-trip into the basic equivalent of Mos Eisely, (look for the Star Wars reference!)  
> Reports are made, Primes are contacted  
> And we get to see a little of the Kaon colony home-life

**_(bold italicized=the other end of a comm link)_ **

Argus, fifth planetoid from Sector 12's main star

Keller's Holt.

In the last two years, it had become a byword for scum and villainy, just as Port Royal had once been known for pirates. This was where those pursued by human law enforcement came to hide, a dirty crowded city full of slums, smugglers, gambling joints, and the occasional high grade bar.

Despite repeated denials, it was commonly suspected that human governments were deporting their worst criminals to Argus, where they usually found their way to becoming Keller's Holt crime bosses. Among the humans and Cybertronians it was even rumored that if one was brave or foolish enough to look, one might occasionally find beings totally alien to the system altogether, beings that only Cybertronians had ever seen before.

One set of aliens that had become a problem in particular was a shadowy group that dealt with human and Cybertronian trafficking. No one ever saw them or knew what they looked like, but they were rumored to come from some distant world called _Nal Hutta_. Their spies were said to be everywhere, from restaurants to rooftops, and if they took you, no one ever saw you again.

This was the city that Sector Sweep 12C had chosen to flee to.

The moment the bridge was opened, all team members were on high alert, guns at the ready. Jack had known that pulling rank might have had potentially negative consequences. Say, for instance, if the local mob decided to see how much ransom money could be obtained should they desire to kidnap him. Or, on the other hand, someone with _just_ the right level of courage and stupidity might decide to settle a score from one of his or his family's earlier missions. His stormy eyes swept over the dingy alley, with graffiti, drunks, and florid neon lights.

"An _alley_?!" Springer nearly shouted in disbelief, "What happened to 'safe travels'?!"

Endline scowled as well. "I don't like it. Feels like a setup to me."

Arcee gritted her denta and charged up her blasters. No sense being unprepared after all.

Unholstering a small caliber shock pistol, Jack crouched in a defensive position next to Petrovych. "Switch on your Ghost Specs," the young captain advised, "Illegal cloaking devices are supposed to be pretty common out here, aren't they?"

The larger man scoffed. " _Anything_ that's illegal is pretty common out here, Captain."

Jack grinned ruefully and charged his Ghost Specs, tuning the pale purple lenses to search for hidden life forms. "I've read plenty of reports and watched footage from places like this, but there really isn't a substitute for actually being there, I guess," he remarked.

The older man smiled back, teeth standing out in the darkness. He motioned to the piles of garbage the team was using as a temporary hiding place. Steam rose from puddles and a rank smell choked the air.

"Lucky you, then. You get to experience Keller's Holt in all its...ah ... _glory_."

The last members of the team, Luis Coron and Centurion appeared out of the swirling green vortex behind them.

"Everyone here?" Arcee asked brusquely, "Good. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."

"Remind me, ma'am, why are we here?" Coron asked gruffly. He was pointing his rifle at every shadow in the alley, being as unused to such places as most Edenites were.

Arcee brushed past Springer and crouched at the alley entrance, taking stock of the busy street.

"There wasn't enough energon in Outpost Gallimimus to bridge us all to Eden. Keller's Holt was the only city in the vicinity with Space Bridge technology," she explained, motioning for them to follow her. "Once we can get to a more secure location, we'll contact Eden and find out what to do next."

Centurion shook his helm and held Marge close to his spark. "Then once we get to Eden, I'll have to file a double incident report. We'll also need to report to the head of the Exploration Unit in Sector 12B."

The others groaned. "We all know what that means," Geist grumbled, "Paperwork."

Arcee and Jack exchanged incredulous glances. They were temporarily stranded in a hostile city, and they were worried about _paperwork_? Springer said aloud what his comrades were thinking.

"You guys really need to sort out your priorities! If we get caught out here, faction tags won't protect us from pirates, slavers, chop-shop dealers or assassins."

The grumbling ceased entirely at this "encouragement", and the team cautiously made their foray into the market district. They passed rows of tall buildings that were so close together that even a child would have a difficult time squeezing through. Garish lighted signs hung everywhere, brazenly advertising casinos, high grade oil and alcohol, and several far more unsavory establishments. Most of the inhabitants were human or some variant of Cybertronian, with a surprising amount of minicons -- likely brought in as cheap labor and unable to secure passage off the planet just yet, but there were a few miserable looking Nebulans drifting between alleys and hawking the wares of whatever establishment had thrown them out into the streets to advertise.

On Centurion's orders, the group huddled together with the humans in the middle, hoping to afford them some measure of protection from the degrading nature of the slums. Springer walked ahead of the group, questioning the more honest-looking citizens about secure places.

Geist hurried up to walk next to Centurion.

The orange mini-bot cleared his vents. "Hey boss?" he asked quietly.

"What's wrong, Geist?"

"How does the chain of command work for now? We're not used to this 'sir, yes sir' business," the scout whispered. Centurion smiled at him.

"To be honest, Geist, I don't think they are either. For as long as we're with Arcee and Captain Darby, you'll still answer to me, but I'll have to answer to her," the captain explained.

"So in other words, play nice or else you'll get in trouble?" Marge piped up from below. Her father jostled her playfully.

"It's more like, _you'll_ get in trouble, but _I'll_ take the consequences," he amended.

It wasn't procedure, but it was how Centurion operated. He and his team were as much a family as Team Prime was, and Jack couldn't help but smile as he watched them interact.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it? We used to be that way, back on Earth." he whispered.

Arcee nodded with a half-smile, but it was clear that she was distracted. When her partner pointed it out, she jerked her chin towards a nearby building. "We've got watchers on three roofs, Jack," she murmured, "Been there for the last two streets."

Sure enough, there were three cloaked figures wearing night vision goggles staring down at them. One of them raised a commlink to its mouth while pointing two fingers in their direction.

"Ok, we need to move," Jack remarked casually, "Like, right now." He and Arcee snapped into action, herding the others together without much explanation.  
Thankfully, Centurion recognized the determination in Arcee's optics easily enough to ensure that his crew didn't dawdle or question them.

"Captain, we're nearing a main road. I suggest transforming to better protect everyone," Springer had returned. "If we follow it for about two miles, it will lead us to the edge of the city. It's pretty much just scrubland beyond that."

Centurion set Marge down and turned to Apollo. "Do you have enough room to transform?"

The flier responded by switching to his vehicle mode with minimum crowding.

"Apollo transports us little guys," Santiago relayed to Arcee, "Particularly if space is involved."

As soon as Geist, Gigawatt, Santiago, Petrovych, Coron, Carter, Inoue and Marge were safely aboard, Apollo launched himself into the air.

Zettabyte transformed into a pink and brown helicopter to follow them.

"Be careful, we'll meet you on the outskirts of town," Centurion called.

"Go with them, Springer," Arcee motioned towards the sky.   
With a jaunty salute, the green mech switched to his own helicopter mode to provide backup support. The remaining ones, Arcee, Jack, Endline and Centurion rolled out as quickly as possible.

Jack turned in his seat to watch behind them, letting Arcee direct their course. Faint shapes moving along the city skyline send a shiver down his spine. "Those guys are still up there, watching," he reported grimly, "I don't like it!"

"Yeah? Well I bet you'll like this even less," Arcee sighed, "We were supposed to contact Optimus three hours ago."

Jack winced. Faced with the prospect of having to deliver an official report to his godfather (and very likely Prowl and his mother as well), the events of the past twelve hours seemed much more serious than before.

As they reached the barren heath beyond Keller's Holt, Jack slipped off of Arcee. His boots made no sound in the springy moss-like plants. "Alright, I'm going to contact Eden. Let me know when everyone is here," he looked a little worried.

Centurion transformed and promised to keep watch, mace at the ready in case their watchers decided to make a move.

Jack walked a little ways away from the others and brought out what looked like a small iron spike. He planted it firmly in the turf, then extended it upwards like a telescope. Placing his personal communication device at the top of the spike, he opened a web of holograms in the air and cycled through until he found the appropriate frequency.

"Captain Jackson Darby, clearance level 9, requesting an audience with Optimus Prime," he spoke firmly, but his hands twitched in a combination of nerves and exhaustion.

The hologram wavered once, breaking into millions of tiny blue and white spheres. Then it resolved itself into the unmistakable features of Optimus Prime.

His normally expressionless face betrayed a hint of worry in his optics. Still, his voice was the same regal -- yet welcoming -- basso it had always been.

 ** _"Captain,"_** he greeted calmly, **_"you were meant to report earlier. What has happened?"_**

 

Jack cut to the chase. "I need to make an incident report, sir. Two of them, actually. I also need to request a Space Bridge to our coordinates lest I end up having to make a third incident report."

 

The Prime leaned his helm back and raised his eyebrows expressively. **_"I assume the mission did not go as planned."_**

Jack shook his head and glanced away guiltily.

* * *

From his kiosk in Eden, Optimus suppressed a wince at this behavior. He knew that look. That was the look that meant something had happened that would be much worse when June found out.

The boy briefly explained what had happened at Outpost Gallimimus and why they were currently on Argos. In the background, Optimus could faintly see Endline looking ashamed of herself when Jack reported the neutral zone skirmish. As was typical of the honorary Prime, he took responsibility for the failure of the mission. Regardless of who was at fault, Optimus certainly agreed that they needed to leave Argos.

It was one thing to send Jack and Arcee out to experience life outside of Eden in what was meant to be a delivery-only mission. But to let them and a vulnerable exploration team stay longer than necessary in a place known for daily muggings, murders, and mayhem? That was something else _entirely_!

"I shall arrange for a bridge momentarily," the Prime stated. He frowned slightly. "I do not doubt that Megatronus has already learned of this incident. I may have to speak to him regarding the state of the truce."

 

 ** _"I know,"_** Jack said meekly.

 

Optimus nodded, and his optics softened for a moment. "I am...very glad that you are safe, Jackson. I am glad that all of you survived this disturbing encounter."

 

Some of the weariness left Jack's countenance, and he straightened his posture just a little. **_"Thank you, sir."_**

Behind him, Centurion reported the approach of the fliers and the humans.

 

"The bridge should arrive at any moment," Optimus rumbled. "As soon as you have all landed in Eden and sought medical attention, you are to report to me. I believe your mother has something of importance to discuss with you."

Jack saluted and signed off, leaving Optimus to stare at a blank screen. He sighed.

There was no use putting it off, he was going to have to call Megatronus about the attack.

Optimus left the communications kiosk and strode down the many corridors and lifts of the archives building until he came to a laboratory. Several different voices emanated from within, playfully arguing.

Optimus stepped inside and smoothly ducked a small wrench that went flying over his helm. Ignoring the bits and pieces of equipment scattered about, he headed for the Space Bridge controls. Halfway across the room he sidestepped to avoid squishing two humans who were apparently having a wrestling match to determine who got to intimidate their sister's new suitor.

Behind his impassive mask, the Prime smiled. The Esquivel family seemed to be able to take the coldest, most austere chambers and turn them into something warm and welcoming merely by their presence. The patriarch of said clan was, at that moment, sitting at the controls and pretending that the chaos surrounding him did not exist.

"Good evening, Prime," he bobbed his head in greeting.

"Good evening, Mr. Esquivel," Optimus returned, "I'm afraid I have need of the space bridge."

The man stood and stretched. "Of course! Where do you need to go?" Optimus explained that first a bridge would need to be sent to Argos to rescue Sector Sweep 12C, and that he might need a second bridge to Kaon. Diego Esquivel cracked his knuckles and got to work.

"If you were wondering where the good Doctor is," he said suddenly over his shoulder, "He's out with Raf and the girls conducting a somewhat incendiary experiment. You'll probably get the incident report later."

There really didn't seem to be a proper reply to _that_ slightly distressing statement, so Optimus settled for double checking the coordinates of the bridge.

Satisfied that the stranded team would be able to make it home safely, the red and blue mech sent an internal comm message to Pred'akngard.

_**'It has come to my attention that there was an incident between our respective peoples. Do we need to meet in person to negotiate?'** _

Several minutes later, he received the reply:

**_'Sorted. Come if you want.'_ **

Optimus's optics crinkled at the corners.

Hundreds of years as a warlord, politician, and celebrated orator, and Megatronus still couldn't send a proper glyph message to save his life.

As the Space Bridge hummed to life, the Esquivel boys ceased their mock fight and scrambled up the scaffolding so as not to be underfoot. The swirling vortex spat out first two, then six, then eight Cybertronians and seven humans.

"Evening, all," Mr. Esquivel said pleasantly.

The assembled team barely replied, as most of them were staring wide-eyed and starry-opticed at the Prime in the room. The humans looked a little star-struck, as a matter of fact. Arcee stepped out of the knot of beings.

"Optimus, In light of recent events, my report on the functionality of Outpost Gallimimus may be moot."

"Understood, Arcee. You may make your report to Prowl or Nurse Darby, if you wish. Or you could wait until I return."

"Return?" Jack asked, "Where are you going?"

"Pred'akngard, to speak with the Kaonian Prime," the reply hung ominously in the air. As the Space Bridge warmed up again, Optimus noted Jack and Arcee's worried expressions.

Marge noticed that the huge warrior took something from his armor and handed it to the young captain, after which Darby visibly relaxed.

"What's that?" Marge asked, peeping over Jack's shoulder. It wasn't much, just a hand-sized metal object, intricately carved in the likeness of the key to Vector Sigma.

Jack flushed, caught off guard. "This? It's not really...it's kinda..." He glanced up at Optimus, who was preparing to leave. "It's like a promise, I guess. That he'll come home, I mean."

Marge didn't understand the significance of the words or the key, but she saw that she'd embarrassed the captain and backed off.

"I should return before tomorrow," Optimus remarked vaguely before stepping through the bridge.

* * *

Once through, he found Megatronus sprawled across a massive carved throne in a hall that looked more Viking than ex-Decepticon. An air of barbaric splendor permeated the chamber, completed by examples of heraldry using Predacons. They were the work of Pred'akngard's few human inhabitants.

Eradicons, Vehicons, and Seekers alike all stood at long low tables in rows before the dais. All of them were staring at the Autobot who had seemingly just materialized in the middle of the Great Hall. There were several minutes of very awkward silence before Megatronus nodded his helm.

"Brother," he said by way of greeting.

The Kaonians took this as permission to continue whatever they had been doing before.

Megatronus beckoned Optimus to join him, and offered him a beaker of synthetic energon that had apparently been mixed with several other chemicals, as it now had an unusual orange glow to it.

"What are you drinking?" Optimus stared suspiciously at the liquid. The larger mech grinned savagely and tossed it back in one gulp.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. He held the empty beaker up to one optic as if examining the residue inside.

"I learned long ago not to ask too many questions when Knock Out is in a culinary mood. In the tradition of the human culture he has most recently attempted to introduce to our heraldry, he calls this 'mead'."

Optimus gingerly moved a second beaker out of his more volatile brother's reach. There was no shame in being cautious, he thought. Especially if one had lived long enough on earth to see what might happen if an overabundance of the drink was imbibed.

"About the incident," he began, but Megatronus cut him off with an impatient gesture.

"I know all about it. It wasn't unprovoked." He threw a meaningful glance behind the throne where the three miscreants from before were standing at attention.

Optimus turned with a start. "By the Allspark," he smiled, "those can't be Starscream's triplets! When last I was here, they had barely developed their secondary armor!"

Ramjet waved shyly, Sunstorm glanced away guiltily, and Slipstream stared straight ahead. Megatronus grumbled something under his breath and turned to face Optimus once more. "The skirmish was a consequence of the actions of children, and I would ask that you see them as such."

"Of course, brother. Primus knows I've seen my share of impulsive younglings," Optimus reassured him.

"Actually, I had come to apologize for the actions of the one who struck first," he added.

Slipstream's scowl deepened behind them, but a stern look from her Prime warned her not to speak.

"As I said before, it was not unprovoked," the former warlord sighed. Standing, he took Optimus by the arm and guided him out of the chamber into a corridor.

 _"I have heard that the attacks have spread to 12C,"_ he whispered.

Optimus frowned. "It is early yet, but the incident at Gallimimus seems to have all the characteristics of the other massacres."

"Except that this time there were survivors," Megatronus observed. Suddenly he chuckled. "I hear they transported to Keller's Holt! What did the Boy think of that?"

There was no need to ask who "the Boy" was. Megatronus always referred to Jack as "the Boy", and June as "The Woman". He viewed them as a strange sort of extended family through Optimus, and thoroughly enjoyed exasperating The Woman.

"He handled it well," Optimus replied simply.

"He's due to Metamorphose soon, isn't he?" The other Prime's query was innocent enough, but it was a controversial subject.

As the humans and their Cybertronian allies spread into the Sector 12 territories, it had become abundantly clear that the children of Earth vastly outnumbered the children of Primus. The disparity between comparative lifespans began to greatly disturb those who had been integrated into human families.

Many were unable to accept the idea that they would only have a few short Cybertronian years with their organic allies. Thus the concept of 'Metamorphoses' was born.

Upon reaching physical maturity at the minimum age of twenty-one, any human who wished might undergo the lengthy process of changing species. The subject would spend four lunar months encased in a tube of Cyber-Nucleic Acid - usually donated by an adopted parent or sibling - and a serum of an undisclosed nature to sustain him. (Efforts had been made by press and civilian alike to discover exactly what went into this serum, but medics thus far remained tight-lipped.)

Over the first two months, the body would change its essential chemical makeup, exchanging flesh and blood for metal and energon, during which the subject would remain sedated to minimize discomfort. Over the third month, armor and processor would form relative to the age of the recipient. By the fourth month, the former human would be an almost completely adjusted Cyber being. Overexposure to the CNA would result in regression to one's Cybertronian mental age, rather than one's human mental age.

Having come from Earth, or 'Aartar' in Cybertronian pronunciation, the Metamorphosed humans chose as a group to refer to themselves as Cybaartarians." Not surprisingly, there were mixed feelings about the process, which was why Optimus did not wish it to be common knowledge that the honorary Prime planned to switch species.

"Where did you hear that Jackson was going to Metamorphose?" Optimus asked warily.

The warrior shrugged. "A little bird told me?" He smirked.

"That is not amusing, brother. That is _very_ sensitive information-"

"-and I'm family, of a kind. Am I not allowed to know? We are not at war anymore, Optimus." Megatronus tried to look earnest and well-intentioned, but the truth was that he looked like an Insecticon with a headache.

Optimus sighed. There was a reason he didn't visit Pred'akngard very often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of exposition here, but it'll be important later on


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Prime has nightmares and a truce is reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly, I wrote this _before_ the Predacons Rising movie, and so any similarities are purely and bizarrely coincidental

_"There are too many of them! We must retreat!"_

_The ground shook with the force of the explosions, painting the sky a lurid red. Decepticons fled aimlessly in their panic, desperate to escape the stone giant. One unlucky spark was picked up between two fingers and crushed like an insect. Another was flung, screaming, through the air before coming to rest on the tip of a spear-like rock, impaled._

_Shockwave fired a few ineffectual rounds at the titan, then turned callously away from his comrades' suffering._

_"Where are you going?" a Vehicon screamed, one of his legs snapped off at the knee._

_"Failure is assured, resistance is illogical," the soulless monotone replied._

_The Decepticons nearest to Shockwave shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to agree or disagree with the dangerous mech. And so they looked to Starscream. Of all soldiers, he was sure to want to live. Perhaps he would order a retreat._

_They were wrong._

_"Coward!" he spat, and the venom in his voice startled them all. "That's Unicron! Do you imagine that hiding will pacify him?!"_

_He turned his blood-red optics back to the battlefield. "I'd rather go down fighting than make a deal with the devil!" He transformed and rocketed back into the massacre, scanning for one particular spark._

_Megatron stood frozen, trapped in the violet gaze of the Destroyer._

_**"Kneel, worm!"** the insidious voice echoed in the warlord's mind. Sluggishly, he moved his hands to his helm. His arms felt like lead, rendering his movements slow and clumsy._

_"No..." he hissed weakly, "You don't own me!" Pain shot through his processor as the beast laughed._

_**"I will always own you! Do you not see the energon that stains your hands? What of Tyger Pax and the younglings that lie dead there? You're not good enough to serve Primus. What made you think you could be saved? You serve me and only me!"** _

_Shame filled Megatron, and he began to lose the will to fight back. Unicron was right. He had no reason to stand tall, to pretend to some newfound righteousness. Even with all he'd done now, even with all he was aspiring to now, peel back the armor and he was just a murderer. Any moment, surely Primus would realize this and rescind his blessing. What was the point in hoping? How could Primus use someone like him? Just as his knees began to give out, a slender form was at his side, supporting his weight._

_"Lord Megatron will never kneel to you!" a raspy voice declared, "You have no more power over him!"_

_Starscream stood at his master's side once more, ready to fight - and this time, there would be no retreat. Megatron stared uncomprehendingly at the mech he had come to expect nothing but treachery from._

_The SIC turned to look his leader dead in the optics. "You don't belong to him anymore, Megatron. He can not hurt you anymore than you let him!"_

_Megatron pushed the smaller mech away with a snarl. "Run, Starscream. As you always have. We cannot change what we are."_

_His mighty shoulders had already begun to bow beneath the accusations of Unicron. Even as the Destroyer laughed, Starscream growled in frustration and shook the mighty warrior fiercely with a strength that belied his small frame._

_"You have changed what you are! What you cannot change is who you were meant to be!"_

_"And who was I meant to be?" Megatron asked bitterly._

_Something flared in Starscream's optics, some indescribable emotion. "A guardian, a guide," he said softly, "A leader of loyal followers, a mech of honor!" He gripped Megatron's arm tighter, willing him to understand. "Look at them. Look at me. We will follow you to whatever end, our captain, our Prime."_

_"A Prime..." Megatron echoed in a hushed voice, fingers rising of their own accord to touch the symbol so recently carved into his helm. Sudden understanding, and a peace that was not his own, flooded his spark, and courage filled him again. Starscream nodded._

_He gave a mighty heave, and the warlord stood steady on his own pedes once again._

_"Go back to the Pit, Unicron!" he shouted, "You have no claim on me!"_

_With a hideous roar, the stone avatar called forth a massive blade. **"Had you continued to pay me homage, I might have spared you! Now, follower of Primus, you will die!"** The blade moved swiftly-almost too quick to see._

_The silver mech prepared himself, but the blow never came. There was a sickening crunch, and a strangled sound escaped him when he saw his second-in-command impaled on the end of the sword._

_"S...Star...scream..." he gasped. His one-time rival slowly swiveled his helm, shuddering in pain. With a Herculean effort, he raised his arm in a salute that looked more like a benediction. And smiled._

_"Til...all...are...one!" he whispered, then triggered the detonation of his arm-rockets._

"NO!"

Megatronus's optics snapped online, and his hand automatically went to his spark chamber, feeling the phantom blade that had claimed Starscream's life. With a shuddering gasp, the mighty warrior hauled himself off of his recharge bunk. There would be no more rest this cycle.

His thoughts returned to the conversation he'd had with Optimus before his brother had returned to Eden. They had quietly discussed the strange attacks on the outpost for some time before Optimus had brought up the border skirmish again. He had asked how Megatronus had handled the situation, and whether he'd been too harsh to put the trine on complete flight restriction. After all, the triplets were "only younglings."

Megatronus didn't think that he'd been too hard on them. Why couldn't they see that he was just trying to protect them? _Those three had no recognizable sense of self-preservation!_ What if they started another fight, but with someone less honorable than an Autobot? What if they ran into that gang from Nal Hutta and got shipped off to who-knows-where as a collector's item? There had already been a myriad of fights reported by Lugnut that had ended with someone -- often one of the trine -- in the healer's ward and weeks of work in the galleries undone.

Starscream's children had no common sense: it was up to him to make sure they didn't die young.

 _Like their sire?_ his mutinous processor whispered.

And there it was. He hadn't saved Starscream. His first act as a Prime had been failure, and he had rashly sworn to protect his fallen comrade's family as a result. It had been easier when they were sparklings. They'd latched onto the only constant in their life, the Kaonian Prime, and he'd been able to provide at least a little affection and stability in those early days. But he had very little experience with sparklings, and he knew things had grown tense between them the older they got.

Megatronus groaned and left his chambers, lost in thought. Sunstorm, at least, had a good idea of when to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he was overconfident in his abilities, and tended to disregard restrictions. There was a part of him that seemed, at times, almost as if it yearned for some kind of approval, but Megatron so rarely caught a glimpse of it these days that it was difficult to know whether or not he was imagining it. He almost hoped he wasn't, if only so that he might find some way to relate to the youngling again.

Ramjet was too timid. He'd do or say anything if he thought it'd keep someone from being angry with him. And when he wasn't afraid of something, he was so joyously mischievous that he disregarded any and all potential threats until it was too late. The fear was a semi-appropriate response, given that their little corner of space was hardly hospitable to the unwary, but why and oh _why_ did the child have to go looking for trouble?

And Slipstream...what was he going to do with Slipstream?

She was so like her sire in some ways, with her penchant for sneakiness and back-up plans and, frankly, the potential for tactical brilliance. Yet she had her carrier's sarcastic defiance and occasional bouts of vindictive spite. Not that Airachnid even noticed her daughter's personality. The only person the Arachnacon cared about was herself. Megatron wasn't even certain when the last time Airachnid had even _seen_ her sparklings was.  
Not that he actually wanted her near them at this stage of their development. It would have undoubtedly done more harm than good.

As was occasionally his habit after flashbacks, Megatronus found his pedes leading him to Starscream's memorial. To his mild surprise, Slipstream was there, curled up between the statue and the wall.

"Youngling?" the Prime asked as gently as he could, which still sounded like someone sharpening iron.

The femme leapt to her pedes, startled, and saluted crisply. "Prime! I didn't know anyone else was awake. I...I won't disturb you sir."

Megatronus saw in Slipstream's optics a desperate need for approval, something he hadn't seen in her in a very long time, and it made him slightly regret the way he'd spoken to her and her brothers earlier.

"At ease, Little One," he sighed.

She relaxed a little, but her wings were trembling.

 _Oh, blast me for an old soft-sparked fool!_ Megatronus thought, _Alright Optimus, I'll try it your way._

He crouched before the small seeker. "Trouble recharging?" Shamefaced, the youngling nodded.

"Me too."

Slipstream looked astonished. Megatronus Prime couldn't sleep either?

The Prime motioned her to sit beside him. Cautiously, she obeyed. It took some maneuvering to get her wings to fit when the two sat side by side -- when she passed her third growth instar, she would likely be taller than her sire had ever been -- but eventually they managed an only slightly uncomfortable arrangement.

"You've... grown up a lot, you know," Megatronus said awkwardly, "Sometimes I have trouble believing you and your brothers are even old enough to fly."

 _Apparently we're not, seeing as you grounded us!_ Slipstream thought rebelliously.

The mech's voice broke into her internal rant. "You were too young to remember the War."

"No. I remember. I remember you bringing Dad's body home," she muttered, preferring to use human words to express her feelings. It was an odd habit of hers, and did not extend to her brothers. "I remember being confused because he wouldn't wake up. I remember Mom saying he had become weak, and probably deserved it!" her voice rose in fervor and pitch.

"I remember her abandoning us on the _Nemesis_ , next to his lifeless husk! I remember Sunstorm holding us, and knowing that we had to take care of Ramjet now because _no one else would_!"

Megatronus could have kicked himself. He hadn't intended to stir up _those_ memories. But perhaps some good could yet come of it.

"You could have hurt or killed someone yesterday in 12C. Have you considered the consequences of that?"

The small femme looked at him strangely. "Speak your mind, Slipstream," he said, warning himself in advance not to be offended.

"With all due respect, sir...why this concern about Autobots? We are Kaonians! We are proud warriors, we don't back down. In every battle we've fought we-"

"And where is it written that that's a good thing?" the elder interrupted. "Mega _tron_ was Kaonian. He was proud, aye, but he was cruel, and in his arrogance and bloodlust he fell. Mega _tronus_ is learning every day what it means to be a Prime: to be responsible for the lives under his care. Pride has its place, but being a leader also means knowing when to stand down, when to let the matter rest."

He laid a hand on Slipstream's shoulder, and felt her tense up. "If Optimus were not such a gentle soul, there very well could have been war. There could have been more younglings whose parents never came home. More sparklings who had to raise their siblings with little to no help, just like you. Do you understand that, Little One?" She seemed like she was beginning to, and so Megatronus continued.

He stretched out his right arm. "Did you know that I have a blade equipped in this arm? No, I suppose you didn't. I have fought in so many battles, been...damaged so many times, I can no longer summon it. Knock Out does his best, of course, but I have built up _centuries_ of scar mesh from all my injuries and nanites can only do so much. Sometimes, during particle storms, I can bring out my sword, but not without pain. And I am one of the fortunate ones. There are _always_ consequences in life, Slipstream. Injuries, deaths, choices we make that we have to live with -- or die by. Do you see? War is not glorious."

"But in the stories and ballads-" Slipstream began to protest.

Megatronus shook his helm. "I once thought the same, but now I know. They became the Kaonians' way of coping with the truth."

His voice grew old for just a moment as his optics were drawn to the statue of Starscream. "There is the rush of battle, the heat of the moment and the thrill of survival against all odds, yes. But there is also fire and pain and death, and the knowledge that when you go home, some of your friends aren't going to be there. And sometimes living with _that_ , the empty places on the ship while you linger on, is the hardest part." He hadn't meant to be so honest with her. He wasn't even that honest with Optimus, usually. But now that he'd begun, it was difficult to stop the flow of words.

"It sounds like the Pit," the youngling whispered, horrified. Megatronus saw guilt and clarity both behind her optics, and realized to his surprise that for the first time in a long time one of his little speeches had not missed the mark.

"Precisely so," Megatronus agreed morosely. He stood, towering over Slipstream once more. "Get some rest, Little One," he commanded, not unkindly. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Next cycle we will discuss taking you off of flight restriction-provided you can show me that you are responsible enough."

Slipstream's jaw dropped, and she nearly put her optic out with the rapidity of her salute. As she scurried down the corridor, Megatronus turned his gaze back to Starscream's impassive face.

"Not a word out of you," he growled, "This never happened!"

With a heavy exvent, he stretched and returned to his quarters. Honestly, he wasn't sure how he had done it. That he had managed to have a rational conversation with Slipstream without one of them losing their temper was nothing short of a miracle!

He blamed sleep deprivation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's really all the backstory for Megatron-as-a-Prime I ever wrote for this old fic, so I guess I'll leave the "how" up to your imaginations. Quite a different Starscream than we're used to, eh? Well, I _did_ say it was an au.  
>  If you're wondering about the StarscreamxAirachnid thing....it was purely an arrangement of convenience in the hopes that any sparklings would prove an asset in overthrowing Megatron.  
> But then Megatron went and had a Damascus Road Experience and Starscream followed and left a _really angry Airachnid_ the sole conspirator with three sparklings she really didn't want to be bothered with. (Luckily for the kids, Starscream loved them even more when he stopped seeing them as potential pawns, and they were pretty happy with just him. Until he died, anyway.)


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get to see a little more of life on Ismaros, some characters get further development, and June worries

_Planet Ismaros_

_City of Eden_

Centurion stood on the marble steps of the Archive hall with Arcee, Jack, Springer and the rest of his team. Optimus had not yet returned from Kaon, and after preliminary checks for injuries, everyone had been unceremoniously ushered outside by the Esquivel clan. Which was fair enough, he supposed, considering the lateness of the hour. Centurion stretched, a few of his back struts making popping noises.

"What a night," he groaned.

Rotating his shoulders to work out the kinks, he turned to the rest of his group. They looked as worn out as he felt, and he smiled.

"Alright, you sorry lot," he chuckled, "go on and get some sleep. I'll do the reporting, and meet you all later."

"You sure, Cap?" Coron started to ask, but was interrupted by Santiago's huge yawn. Everyone snickered a little at her sheepish expression.  
That seemed to answer _that_ question, after all. Coron didn't look especially alert either. Petrovych's eyes were red, and Geist was wobbling on his treads. Centurion was right, they needed to rest.

"You too, Springer, Jack," Arcee advised, "I'll report to Prowl and catch you at the memorial gardens for debriefing later."

"Never argue with a superior officer," Springer conceded readily before turning his attention to the pretty Zettabyte.

"So, anyplace around here you want to see? I could give you a private tour."

Apollo scowled and "accidentally" bumped into the green triple-changer as he walked by, sending the unfortunate would-be flirter into a pillar. The quiet fellow made an apologetic look and "helped" him up.

"That is kind of you," Zettabyte said in reply to Springer's query, "but I will be with Endline and Irene and Gigawatt, finding a place to stay."

Slowly, the group dispersed until it was just Marge, Centurion, Arcee, and Jack.

Centurion shaded his optics to look at the sun. "Near midmorning. Your mother'll be teaching by now. Why don't you wait for her at the school while I finish up here? It could be a while." Marge rubbed her eyes and nodded.

"Alright then, Da, I'll be seeing you," she mumbled, swaying a little. Jack smiled, reminded suddenly of Miko during late night video game tournaments when they had still lived on Earth.  
As it often did, the thought brought with it a slight pang of regret. With Miko and the Wreckers stationed halfway across the stars, and Raf buried in his work in the labs, video game tournaments didn't happen much anymore.

"Captain, may I walk your daughter to her destination?" Jack asked politely. From the looks of things, if someone wasn't with her, Marge would fall asleep right in the middle of the road! Not that this would be a particularly dangerous thing in Ismaros, unless one had a great aversion to falling into passing laundry carts.

The captain nodded with an easy smile, although his optics held a protectiveness that was comfortingly familiar with the young man. He'd seen it often enough in the eyes of his mother and the rest of Team Prime.

With a courtly half-bow, Jack offered Marge his arm. "Which way, Miss O'Connor?"

"Mum is teaching first years at Bryce Memorial Academy," the younger woman pointed down several city terraces to a city district characterized by buildings carved of living stone.

As the young humans walked in comfortable silence, towering metal structures gave way to closely grouped stone complexes vaguely reminiscent of pueblos. Gardens and trees decorated every available space, filling the air with the fragrances of summer. Down one of the many cozily narrow streets, overhung with clotheslines from second and third story windows, they found Bryce Memorial Academy.

It was a prestigious sounding name for a six-room schoolhouse. Students were sorted by physical and emotional maturity, as the two native species counted age so differently. Marge led Jack into a sunny back room filled with about twenty students, with humans only slightly outnumbering sparklings. A cheerful middle-aged woman stood in front of the class: this was Abigail O'Connor, Marge's mother.

Mrs. O'Connor stood next to a screen depicting a well-dressed Asian man. "Who is this?" she asked. A little girl with ribbons woven into her braids waved her hand timidly.

"Uplink?" the teacher acknowledged.  
An unusual name for a human, perhaps, but she and her brother had both been adopted at birth by a Cybertronian/human couple with rather different ideas of naming conventions for children. Likewise, some of the sparklings in the classroom were being raised by fully human families, and thus took Earth names.

"Um, that's Principal Santisakul," Uplink Williams said shyly.

"That's right! This is Principal Santisakul! Now, can anyone tell me where he's from?"

A little boy, almost identical to Uplink, shot his hand into their air. Almost before he was called on, Download Williams crowed, "He's from Thailand!"

Mrs. O'Connor beamed. "Absolutely right! Now class, lets say I'm in the hall, and Principal Santisakul asks me where the water fountain is." She spread her arms expressively.

"Do I _point_ to show him?"

"Noooo!" the students chorused enthusiastically.

" _No_?" The teacher giggled. "What do I do then? Anyone? Corbin?"

The round yellow and green sparkling made a gulping noise before squeaking, "You should twy to wave wif you whole hand!"

Jack grinned from the back of the room at the sparkling's adorably butchered English. Like any other child learning a first language, grammar was proving to be a little tricky for Corbin.

"My whole hand?" the teacher pretended to be confused. "But why? Where I come from, we point with fingers!"

"But it's rude to Principal Santisakul!" protested another student, twirling her pigtails around her fingers.

"Yeah!" Another child agreed, "And you have to be 'spectful because he's older than you!"

"Very good, Carly and Sari. Exactly right!"

She turned to the rest of the class. "Okay guys, what did we just do? What is that called?"

Marge smothered a giggle as her mother performed an elaborate pantomime. "Remember? We put on our Thinking...what?"

" _CAP!_ " The little ones screamed en masse.

"Yes! C.A.P.! Somebody tell me what C.A.P. is!"

In the excitement of the moment, a very small red sparkling stood on her chair and shrieked, " _Culchurawwy Aprobibate Pwaktiss!_ "

Mrs. O'Connor laughed. "Culturally Appropriate Practice, good job Twirl! Why is Culturally Appropriate Practice important, class?"

As one, the sparklings and human children chorused: "Because in Eden we love and respect our neighbors!"

A chime rang, signaling the end of class. "Ok guys, recess!" Mrs. O'Connor shooed them out a side door and into a sunny yard, then turned to her guests.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, Mum," Marge apologized.

She was quickly swept into a crushing hug. "Maggie, lass! I didn't know you were coming home so soon! Where's your da?"

As Marge was gasping for breath, Jack took the liberty of answering for her. "Centurion is probably still up at the Archives hall, making his incident reports." He held out a hand. "I'm Captain Darby, ma'am. I assume you are Mrs. O'Connor?"

The woman shook the proffered hand vigorously. "That I am, dear. You can call me Abigail. Now -- wait a moment, you said _incident reports_? Something happened at the outpost?" 

Marge extricated herself from her mother's arms.  
"There kind of isn't an outpost anymore, Mum. It _miiight_ have gotten demolished or something... Also, we got temporarily marooned in Keller's Holt."

Jack had thought that he'd known how scary a worried mother could get just from his own experiences. He quickly realized how mild of an experience he'd always known as Abigail nearly exploded.

" _Keller's Holt?!_ " she howled, her face reddening. There followed a long tirade, mostly in Irish, demanding answers, and why-wasn't-she-told, and oh-just-wait-until-your-father-gets-home and the like.

Finally, she collapsed into one of the little chairs, holding a hand to her head. "My poor baby! Is everyone alright?" When her daughter confirmed that the worst anyone had were bumps and bruises, she calmed somewhat.

"Forgive me, Mrs. O'Connor," Jack said gravely, unconsciously mimicking his godfather, "It was my decision to bridge to Keller's Holt. They were the nearest port with Space Bridge capabilities." 

Abigail's eyes softened. "Think nothing of it, lad. You don't look like the type to put others in danger. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of you."

Jack blushed and muttered something about the chances of surviving once his own mother found out he'd gone to Keller's Holt. This would only reinforce the belief she had that Argus was the Elephant Graveyard from the Lion King and an Old West bar-room-brawl just waiting to happen, all rolled into one. Really, if anyone was going to be sent there intentionally, the Wreckers were probably the only ones who could navigate the streets with any reasonable degree of safety.

The hum of an engine outside heralded the approach of Centurion, who activated his holomatter avatar before entering the school. To the casual observer, he seemed like an average human male of European descent, perhaps fifty or so years of age.

"Abigail?" he asked, voice containing a hint of trepidation. Then he too was crushed in a patent Mrs. O'Connor embrace.

"Would it be asking too much for you to call me when something like this happens, you great big nuisance?" Abigail's voice was muffled against Centurion's shoulder. The captain smiled and held her tightly.

"I'm sorry, love. It only happened last night, you know. I hadn't the time to call you until we were safely out of Keller's Holt."

"I should probably get going," Jack whispered to Marge, "I know you and your family are going to need some time to unwind. I hope everything turns out alright."

He nodded courteously, and took his leave just as little Uplink stuck her head into the room to yell, " _Teacher, Saddiya is throwing up!_ "

* * *

Jack took his time navigating the winding pathways of the Stone District before they melted into the Garden District's cobblestone streets. Somewhere between the memorial gardens and the central archives was a waterfall, at the base of which lay the original houses of the colony. The one nearest the water was his.

As he loped up the path and slid over the stile in the middle of a low stone wall, he heard his mother's voice.

"I can't _believe_ she did that! Every team we send to the neutral territories gets briefed on inter-faction diplomacy, you'd think they'd actually _remember_ it sometimes! Well, it sounds like you handled it well, at least."

Arcee's voice responded, sounding more tired than usual. "Jack handled things just as well. You should've seen him, June. Just like Optimus!" There was a hiss of discomfort, followed by June scolding Arcee for moving.

"Just like _Jack_. I can see the Optimus in him as much as you, but there's no denying he's his own man. Now keep still! That's a pretty deep laceration, sweetie. I doubt you noticed it, what with the adrenalin -- or whatever Cybertronians use for adrenalin -- and all, but if I don't get this cleaned up now, you might have some trouble with that hand later," the nurse fussed over her patient, applying a liquid mesh patch to the wound on Arcee's gun hand.

Jack rounded the corner of the house to find his mother and his best friend sitting on the porch. "Hey Mom, Arcee," he greeted.

"Hi honey! Ah-ah-ah! Don't move that hand, Arcee!"

The blue femme huffed and muttered something about medics. June leaned over and raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing, June," Arcee said sweetly.

"Are you sure?" Jack teased, "I'm pretty sure I heard 'Thanks for not sending me to Ratchet, Mrs. Darby'."

Arcee narrowed her optics at her partner. "Don't you start the ganging up thing on me!"

Jack chuckled and flung himself down on the deck with a sigh.

"Arcee told me everything, Jack," his mother said, reaching down to squeeze his hand, "I'm so glad you're both safe!"

Arcee's lips quirked upwards as she saw some humor in the situation. "Feels like the old days, doesn't it? Sending me and Jack somewhere and telling us to stay safe is almost a guarantee that we're going to run into trouble."

June made a face. "I, for one, was enjoying the peace!" Jack rolled over to face his mother.

"Mom," he said softly, "I don't know why, but I feel like that peace isn't going to last as long as we think."

Arcee frowned in understanding. "Those mystery goons in 12D and C might make their way out here," she said grimly. 

June stood abruptly. "We are _not_ discussing that here. Besides, that's a matter for the Primes."

"Optimus says I'll still be an honorary Prime when I Metamorphose," Jack argued. June sighed and slumped down again, leaning against her son's shoulder.

"Right, you're going to Metamorphose in a month. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but I'll wait until Optimus gets here."

Jack and Arcee exchanged slightly worried glances.

* * *

Across Eden, the femmes of Sector Sweep 12C had found a place to bunk until their next assignment. It was a small suite with one bedroom and a living room with two sleeper couches. Gigawatt grunted something that might've been "good night" before shutting herself in the bedroom. Irene quickly claimed one end of the Cybertronian-sized couch and leaned back with a sigh. Zettabyte began bustling to and fro, unfolding the other couch into a recharge bunk. She looked up to see Endline staring pensively out the door of the suite.

"Endline? _Nǐ hái hǎo ma?_ "* she asked gently.

"Nothing. I'm fine," the femme answered tersely.

"You're pretty obviously not _fine_ , girlfriend!" Santiago called from the couch.

"Mute it, Irene!" Endline growled. Irene looked slightly hurt by her vehemence.

" _Dà jiě jie,_ "* Zettabyte's voice was serene, but her optics held a hint of reproach. The Vehicon femme frowned and crossed her arms tightly over her tank.

"Sorry," she muttered.

She wouldn't meet their eyes. All she could think of was her stupid, rash loss of temper with the Kaonians. It was so easy -- too easy -- to slide into the memories, to see her family in pieces, trampled by Thunderwing. To hear the ugly names she'd been called as a young Autobot for having red optics. She'd tried so hard to put it behind her, pretend it hadn't happened, and look what had happened.

She'd punched a _youngling_. A _kid_! What was _wrong_ with her?

She had been so angry, so terrifyingly angry. It was like the Seekerlet had become every Autobot and neutral that had tormented her in that moment, and she'd lashed out. The fury of the soldiers from Eden was nothing to her. The look on her partner's face...that one had hurt. Dean had looked so...sad. Not disappointed, or angry, but sad. Like he understood and he was hurting for her. He probably understood her better than anyone save the Captain.

They never said anything in the night watches where she would break down weeping, not even sure what had triggered the tears. Dean had held her finger in his hand the whole day on the anniversary of her family's deaths. The captain didn't judge her when she screamed invective at those who were once Decepticons, or snapped at her teammates unexpectedly. They knew she was still healing. But she'd been making such progress containing her anger, and now this. When Arcee had told him what she had done, he had not been angry, but his optics had held a mixture of worry and disappointment that wrenched her spark.

A hand on her faceplate drew her slowly from the slough of despondency.

" _Dà jiě jie?_ "

Coolant tears began to spill out of Endline's optics, to her chagrin. Zettabyte pulled the older femme into a sisterly embrace, murmuring soothing things.

"It's going to be alright, Endline. We can work through this," Irene called from the couch.

They were trying to be kind. They always were, but this time she was worried about more than her personal hurts.

Endline shook her helm. "I could have started a war! What if Centurion loses his post for this? You _know_ him, he'll take full responsibility no matter what I'll say and he'll try to take whatever punishment is due. It'll be my fault!" she wailed, "I'll never be able to look him in the optics again!"

Irene climbed over the back of the couch and slid to the floor. She sat down on Endline's foot. "Don't say that!" Irene insisted. She smirked. "You know how the captain's motto is "for as much as is possible, be at peace with all mechs?"

Endline rolled her optics. "Yeah. He only says it every _day_!" she grumbled through her tears.

Irene grinned up at her. "Well," she explained, "I'm pretty sure it means he'll forgive you, whatever else happens." 

Endline relaxed a little. It was a nice thought, anyway.

"Alright, you two," Zettabyte said in a maternal no-nonsense tone, "get some rest!" The human yawned and smiled as Endline relocated her to the couch, and curled up next to her.

"Goodnight," she sighed.

" _Wǎn'ān,_ "* Zettabyte returned.

Endline remained awake long after the others had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling and trapped in her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time when I was writing this (good heavens what was it, four years ago now?), I was taking several education and classroom management classes at my college, and some of that leaked into Mrs. O'Connor's teaching segment into the chapter. You'll probably see more stuff like that here and there. I definitely based some of her mannerisms off of one of my teachers.
> 
> I didn't get straight back to action in this chapter, because I didn't want it to look like Endline got away scot-free after punching Slipstream.
> 
> Seeing as my beta reader said (and I quote) "FOR THE LOVE OF THE ALLSPARK PLEASE PUT TRANSLATIONS!" I have put what Zettabyte is saying.
> 
> * "are you alright?"
> 
> * "big sister" (affectionate nickname)
> 
> * "good night"


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse at the home front, and where Optimus goes when he wants some peace.  
> (shorter chapter, mostly dialogue, but things will pick back up again before too long)

Optimus drove in silence, his spark heavy with worry. The incident reports from Arcee and Jack's mission had come in, and they weighed on his processor. There were elements too similar to previous incidents to be ignored, and he didn't like what he was seeing. Having been a historical archivist before he was a Prime, Optimus tended to file and categorize data as he gathered it, setting it aside in files in his processor. The file pertaining to the Kaonian province attacks was growing exponentially, and had been for months.

A sparkling disappears from an asteroid settlement in 12E, investigation teams reported sudden and intense cold before disappearing as well. A town in 12D is found torn to shreds and completely massacred. Three patrol units - all on separate planetoids - report unusual weather conditions, and are later found savagely murdered. Unidentified life signs and sudden cold lead to the utter destruction of Outpost Gallimimus in 12C. Optimus rapidly fired off a brief message, spare but polite, to each of the members of the Council, requesting an emergency meeting. They needed an investigation of Outpost Gallimimus to be certain, but Optimus had no doubt it would show the same characteristics of the 12E and 12D attacks.  
The Council would no doubt come to the same conclusion he had: the enemy was on the move.

Optimus did not regret sending soldiers to 12C. If he had not, the Sector Sweep team would have died just like the others had. Arcee had, as usual, taken control of the situation with efficiency and clarity. There was a reason the governing body of Eden was contemplating promoting her to lieutenant commander of the colony militia. A secret part of Optimus's spark, however, slightly regretted sending Jack. Not that he doubted his competence at all. No, the boy had remained calm throughout the entire affair, and Arcee's reports reflected that his skills in leadership were developing well. Still, that was _his_ boy, and in some ways he had been as panicked as June when he heard the words "Keller's Holt".

The Prime turned off of the bridge and transformed, preferring to walk the rest of the way. Here, the trees had grown tall, branches twisted in whimsical shapes as though they had tried to get out of the way of passing Cybertronians. Half of them were covered with blooms reminiscent of a cherry tree, though more of a violet color, and piles of the petals on the ground revealed places where local children had been swinging from the branches. Hands clasped behind his back, Optimus walked through the gardens, taking comfort in the beauty surrounding him. If only he could insulate this civilization from harm...but such thoughts were impractical. Exventing heavily, he strolled down to the waterfall, ducking under tree branches. He did not bother to brush away the blossoms that fell onto his armor. It felt almost...festive.

Optimus stepped carefully over the stone wall and paced around to the back of the modest house, then smiled softly at the scene before him. June knelt on the back porch, tending a box of flowers, while Jack, Arcee, and all five Esquivel kids -- only two of which were still teenagers, technically -- stood waist-deep in the pool at the waterfall's base. Bumblebee, taking advantage of a rare free day, sat on the shore, dithering about whether to get in or not. All were completely absorbed in a game involving air cannons, splashing, and a _decidedly_ unorthodox use of kumquats.

Raf saw him first. The sixteen year old pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and grinned. "Hi Optimus!" he shouted, before Pilar ducked him under the water again. He came up spluttering and shoved at his older sister.  
"Revenge! Reveeeenge!" he shouted in a somewhat waterlogged voice, and knocked Pilar back with a full tackle, which sent a miniature tidal wave over the rest of the swimmers. Once they'd all bobbed up to the surface again, they waved at Optimus, who returned the gesture.

"Hello, children," he rumbled, spark lightened immeasurably by their noisy innocence. Though, just as a precaution, he slid a half-step nearer the porch to avoid the splashes. Which was just as well, as Bumblebee had evidently decided it was time he got into the water, where Jaime announced him as his ally and declared war on his younger brothers and sisters.

Just as Bumblebee splashed in, creating a bigger wave than before, Jack scrambled out of the pool, sopping wet. It was lucky for him that it was summer, as the sunlight quickly evaporated most of the moisture from his clothing.

He didn't salute, and there was no need to. This was no military setting, this was home. His eyes were filled with a relief that mingled with affection. Not that he'd expected much danger in Kaon -- well, no more than usual, anyway -- but it was still a little unnerving when Optimus just left on impromptu solo missions. He _did_ have a little bit of a track record for "incidents", after all. If Jack had been feeling particularly insolent, he might've mentioned that he and Arcee had picked that up from him. Jack darted over to the porch to rummage through his jacket, which was slung over a chair.

He fished out the key and held it up to Optimus with a smile. "Yours, I believe?"

The playful mood of the gathering seeped into his weary spark, and Optimus responded by snatching the boy up with a low chuckle and depositing him on his shoulder. Had Raf and Pilar not been so focused on their water war, they might've found themselves in a similar position.

"Welcome home, Optimus," Arcee greeted him warmly. She edged towards the shallows -- not that the pool was very deep for a Cybertronian to begin with -- and sat on the bank.

"How did your meeting with Megatronus go?" Jack murmured from his position next to his godfather's helm.

"Megatronus will not pursue the matter, and does not hold it against Endline. He is of the opinion that it was the fault of the young Seekers, and they have been... punished accordingly," he answered.

Jack winced in sympathy. He knew as well as anyone that Megatronus would not take the matter lightly. He'd had enough difficulty ending the first war that he secretly worried he'd be unable to stop himself if a second one began. Jack could respect that. He wouldn't have been surprised if the triplets had been grounded for a few decades.

With a weary groan, Optimus lowered his massive frame to the grass, careful not to tip Jack off of his shoulder. For a little while, he watched Bumblebee and his honorary "siblings" in their playful water-fight, as Arcee stretched out to dry in the sun. How she managed to avoid the watery missiles without moving was unclear, but Optimus suspected she'd set a small deflector shield. As the sun climbed higher, someone's comm buzzed.

"Darby family," June answered, "Oh, good afternoon, Doctor. Yes, they're here. _Yes_ , all six of them. Honestly, you think they'd miss one of Bee's days off? Alright, I'll tell them, hang on."

She turned and shouted to the mock combatants, "That's Ratchet, guys. He says your parents want you to come home for dinner, and then Ratchet needs some help with an experiment. The way he said it suggested explosives."

Optimus winced almost imperceptibly. Ratchet did like his experiments these days. The explosions were never _intentional_ , naturally, but if he got to teach his "honorary grandsparklings" something about Cybertronian science in the meantime, well who was to complain about that?  
The answer was "everyone else who has to use that lab", of course, but Ratchet refused to be intimidated by irate custodians. But then, the custodians weren't intimidated by Ratchet, either. The oldest Esquivel girl, Alicia, was of the opinion that it was only a matter of time before the passive-aggressive notes and comments escalated into a full prank war.  
Knowing Raf and his siblings, they would almost certainly be partially responsible for the ensuing chaos.

Protesting lightly, three young men, two young women, and Bumblebee dragged themselves away from the water. The scout shook himself dry, (nearly soaking Optimus, Arcee, and Jack) and transformed so that the Esquivels wouldn't have to walk the whole way. With cheerful and boisterous farewells, they departed, leaving the Darbys and their extended family to themselves.

Arcee sat up and drew her knees to her chestplate. "So, Megatronus doesn't want a war. Not that I blame him, but what about Endline? She's still in trouble, isn't she? I mean, not as much trouble as she'd be in if Magnus still lived here, of course, but I'm guessing the kid is at least confined to the city for a little while."

Optimus turned to face her, too slowly to dislodge Jack from his perch. Jack cheerfully hung on tighter anyway and tossed him a sympathetic grin. When the boy Metamorphosed, Optimus decided, this would be something he'd miss.

"Endline will be properly reprimanded for her behavior," he said solemnly, "and I believe that the disciplinary tribunal will likely require her to personally apologize to young Slipstream, in addition to being held back from missions to neutral space for the time being."

June shrugged and leaned against the porch railing. "That sounds fair. I might have her look into professional help though, Arcee's report makes it sound like she has some pretty major unresolved trauma involving Decepticons in her past. If the Trine inadvertently triggered a flashback, or some kind of panic attack, then Endline's disciplinary tribunal should take that into account. Not to excuse punching the Seeker, but we also don't want to ignore any outside factors that may have influenced the situation."

Optimus met her gaze with an interested look. "Indeed? I do not know Endline personally, and I had not considered that possibility. I should have, of course. So many of our people carry old wounds from the war, and the young ones do not always have access to counselors like Rung. I will speak to her commanding officer about it. Would you be willing to speak with her, June, until we can determine what will best suit the situation? If Endline is in distress, I am sure we all wish to help her through this as best we can."

"I'll see what I can do," the nurse said softly, "for now, though, I believe there was a matter we were going to discuss with Jack?"

Ah, that was right - they were supposed to discuss Metamorphoses with the boy. He held out his hand, and Jack hopped nimbly from his shoulder. Once safely on the ground, he sat next to his partner and fixed his eyes on his mother and father-figure. June and Optimus glanced at each other, unsure of where to start.

"Jackson, you will be twenty-one in one lunar month," the Prime began, then paused and glanced down at June.

June continued, "Metamorphoses is a...well, it's a lengthy process, and you're going to be pretty vulnerable while you transform. Perceptor sent over the necessary paperwork while you were gone, and I looked through it. It requires your signature and mine, but mostly Optimus's seal."

Optimus nodded seriously. "The signature will be invalid if you wait until after Metamorphosis to sign. You will be considered legally an adult only so long as you are human," he said.

"I know," Jack replied, and he did. Given that Cybertronians and Cybaartarians lived for so long, they took longer to grow up -- especially in times of peace. Once he Metamorphosed, Jack would be under the guardianship of his mother and Optimus Prime until he was at least one-hundred and thirty years of age. Patrols and political action would be considerably limited, just as they had been on Earth during the war. That would be annoying, he decided, but it didn't bother him quite as much as he'd have thought it would.

"Of greater concern are the spreading attacks by the unknown life forms," Optimus spoke in a grave voice, and Jack felt a chill as the setting sun added an air of foreboding to his words. "If they continue to move from sector to sector, your Metamorphosis may not be as safe as we could have hoped. Do you wish to wait until the threat has been dealt with? Your mother and I worry that Eden may become a target, and we thought perhaps you might prefer to Metamorphose on Cybertron?" He sounded almost tentative, as though expecting Jack to say no.

Jack considered silently, then glanced up at Arcee to gauge her reaction as he spoke.  
"I mean, I'm not sure I'm any safer as a human than as a Cybaartarian, and I don't know enough about the attacks to know what dealing with it entails. To be able to transform on a restored Cybertron would be _beyond_ amazing, but I honestly don't know if I can wait that long. If you'll agree," and here he leaned forward to look at June, "I would prefer to Metamorphose as soon as is legally possible." Then, in a quieter voice, he admitted, "But I'd...like someone to be there with me, if that's alright?"

His mother beamed at him and leaned forward to smooth his hair. "Of course, sweetheart. Optimus and Arcee and I can rotate out to sit with you, if you want." It was fairly obvious to her that he was suggesting this as much for her benefit as for his own -- part of her wanted to snort and inform Jack that she was very much a grownup and he did not have to watch out for them both, that was _her_ job, but part of her also admitted that she would likely be uneasy if she couldn't be there with him for at least part of the process.

As daylight once more faded into dusk, the discussion began to turn to less pressing matters, mostly to do with city upkeep and issues of civil legislation, and Arcee excused herself for the evening, eager for some rest.

"I don't know about you," she smirked, "But the oil bath has my name on it. Consider the washroom off-limits for the next three hours. And then, I'm -- what's the expression? -- hitting the hay"

"Alright, sweetheart, rest well," June smiled up at Arcee. The femme was many decades her senior, but somehow June had taken to treating her like a daughter, and Arcee certainly didn't seem to mind. June turned and cast a mock frown at her son.

"You too, mister, you've been up for two days at least. Go to bed!" She playfully scolded Jack. The boy smirked, but hugged her tightly.

"Ok, ok. 'Night Mom." She returned the wish with a motherly kiss to his forehead and pushed him towards the back door.

"Goodnight, Optimus," he called over his shoulder.

The Prime smiled gently back. "Get some rest, son," he advised quietly.

Left alone for the time being, the woman and the Prime found themselves sitting in comfortable silence, each contemplating the challenges that lay in their future. Optimus broke the silence first.

"June, in cases of Metamorphoses similar to Jackson's, the young Cybaartarians are sometimes formally or more often nominally adopted by their legal Cybertronian guardians after changing. Would you be...offended...if this were to be the case?"

June squinted for a moment, trying to work out what her friend was saying. "Do you mean would I be upset if you officially adopted Jack?"

Upon seeing Optimus's flustered and embarrassed expression, June began to chuckle. "Let's see: would I be upset if one of my closest friends stepped in to help me raise my son? Ha. Where were you nineteen years ago?" She shook her head with a grin before Optimus could look properly dismayed. "If I was going to fret about something like that, do you think I'd have made you his godfather?" She laughed again. "No, Orion. You have my permission. It's not like you'd try to negate my claim on Jack, or push me away." Optimus looked relieved, lending a younger, more confused quality to his features which made the woman laugh once more.

The stars began to emerge above them, and June's face fell a little. "He's _so_ ready to Metamorphose, but...all I can think is that I'll never be able to hold my baby the way I used to again. Do you think all parents feel like this?"

Optimus shook his mighty helm. "I do not know, June. But...if it is any comfort, I will miss being able to carry him on my shoulder."

He chuckled suddenly, and the rumbling sound echoed into the night. "Though I doubt Jackson will appreciate such a mode of transportation when he is bigger."

The nurse snorted and allowed a smile to creep across her tired features at the image. "I guess it's just hard to think of him as growing up."

A mischievous twinkle lit her eyes. "If this is hard for me, I can't _imagine_ what it's going to be like for Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers when suitors start hanging around Miko!"

"If they have not already!" Optimus nodded.

The idea of the hook-handed commander and his posse sitting on a porch, cleaning guns while some nervous young man inquired after Miko was enough to melt any remaining tension.

* * *

Megatronus quietly patrolled the halls of Pred'akngard, as he always did in the evenings before the shields were dropped over the settlement. He passed Kaonians of diverse shapes and sizes, going about their daily lives. A few of the rare human inhabitants nodded respectfully at him as he passed and he returned the gesture in silence. There was not a hint of animosity in their actions. Peace, how strange it felt. He had cleared the first two wings when he caught sight of Ramjet skulking along the corridor.

The young Seeker was holding a bizarre creature that looked like the mutated offspring of a squid and a chipmunk.

"Ramjet!" the Prime barked, " _What_ is that hideous thing, and _why_ is it in my home?!"

The youngling squawked in surprise, then turned bright optics upon the strange animal. "I...dunno?" he answered slowly. 

The former warlord blinked.  
" _You don't know_. And where are you taking this unfortunate monstrosity, pray tell?"

"I'm gonna show Knock Out!" Ramjet chirped happily.

Megatronus's left optic twitched violently as he pondered all the possible meanings the child's declaration might have had.

"Why?" he demanded. The little grey and white mech frowned, deep in thought.

"You mean I gotta have a reason for _everything_ I do?" he blurted out.

Now Megatronus's other optic was twitching as well. Ramjet tended to act younger than he was, but there was no possible way that his plans for that creature were as guileless as they sounded! Someone was going to be on the receiving end of that foul little beast, and it was _not_ going to be pretty.

Megatronus stood silently for several more seconds before he made his decision. Against his better judgment, he stepped out of the way.

"Carry on," he sighed with a flourish of his hand.

Ramjet flashed a brilliant smile and scurried away.  
There was sure to be a horrifying incident later, he knew, but it was Knock Out's problem now! He didn't suppose there was any harm in letting the Trine create a little chaos, every now and then. Better than running off to neutral spaces looking for a fight, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhat shorter chapter this time, but things will be getting back into action before too long.
> 
> also, Knock Out's in for an unpleasant surprise! At this point, I've basically decided that the triplets' personalities are
> 
>  **Sunstorm:** a little like Sokka from Avatar: the Last Airbender
> 
>  **Slipstream:** kind of like Toph from the same show, mixed with a little bit of Sabine from Star Wars Rebels
> 
>  **Ramjet:** Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, but slightly less mischievous around certain adults


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which we get our first indication of what the mysterious attackers are, and in which trouble is brewing

_Quadrant 12, Sector 12D-outer asteroid belt_

A ring of asteroids floated peacefully in the void, surrounded by countless thousands of stars. In the very center of the ring a titan slumbered. Migrating Colony 21186D was massive; forged from reinforced Cybertronium, able to withstand impacts up to the magnitude of a small crash landing without injuring its inhabitants.

The mammoth ship, known affectionately as _Sherwood_ by its 2079 human inhabitants, and _Storm Front_ by its 462 Cybertronian inhabitants, moved slowly from place to place. Exploration craft could often be seen darting to and from the huge station like bees from a hive, although at present all activity was at a lull. 21186D was nowhere near life-bearing planets or asteroids at present, and so its fleets remained safely ensconced in its many hangars. It was meant to explore for the purpose of boldly seeking out new life and creating new colonies, yet most of those living within it never dreamed of leaving.

Somewhere within the western edge of 21186D, in a shielded hangar bay, sat an old fighter craft. It had come through the age of the Quintessons, the Cybertronian Civil War, and the War for All, and surprisingly it was still in one piece for the most part. To say that it was "well-loved" would be an understatement, but to call it a rust bucket would have been an overstatement and an insult. Though a touch mismatched here and there where style had been sacrificed for functionality, the _Storm-bringer_ was a testament to the careful nature of its pilot. A pair of armored legs stuck out from beneath the old warbird, and a cheerful-if tuneless-whistle echoed through the nearly empty hangar.

A door hissed open and a young woman entered. Combat boots made a hollow thunk on the deck as she walked towards the whistling mechanic. Bi-colored hair clashed with the grease-stained fatigues she wore, and the dog-tags jingling around her neck were covered in Cybertronian glyphs.

Her eyes were fixed on a huge screen balanced in her hands that was nearly the size of a flannelboard; she didn't stop to look up at the mechanic. She merely slapped his foot as she said loudly, "Dispatch call!"

The mech sat up quickly, resulting in a thunderous crash, and an even more thunderous bellow of pain, followed by some inventive vocabulary. The girl stepped back and raised an eyebrow as the mechanic emerged, covered in energon and quietly cursing his ship.

"Think that's funny, do you? Just you wait, ya hunk of junk! I'mma punch you in your scrap-lousy face!" He shook his clawed fist at the offending vehicle in a fairly out of character performance before noticing the human.

"Miko, what is it? I was fine-tuning the _Storm-bringer_!" he said impatiently. 

Mikoto Nakadai -- though quieter and grimmer than she had been in her younger years, still ready with a grin -- snickered and held up the screen.  
"Oh I can _see_ that! Well I'd hate to interrupt, but there's a dispatch from Eden, Chief. And next time? Just ask Wheeljack to do it!"

Ultra Magnus scowled down at the smallest of his Wreckers. "I am perfectly capable of managing my own ship!" he protested.

" _Riiight_. Which is why you were about to punch it in its scrap-lousy face. Which, by the way, Bulkhead might not like you saying, since you put up such a fuss when _he_ said it."

Magnus carefully hid an annoyed wince. He hated it when the younger Wreckers caught him swearing. It made his scoldings on similar subjects completely ineffectual.

He settled for leveling a ferocious glare at the girl and -- ever so carefully -- snatching the data pad from her.

"Crops are flourishing, no political snarls of note beyond your usual tax discussions," he read aloud."Well that's all well and good, but I fail to see the relevance of such knowledge to us," he muttered in an aside to Miko, who shrugged. Magnus continued, "Family is well, Bumblebee and the Esquivel boys want to visit...that will be interesting..."

The tall mech scrolled through the letter lazily, ingesting the news from the other sectors. "Are Bulkhead and Smokescreen finished with the shield?" he asked off-handedly.

Miko climbed up to sit on a stack of crates nearby, and for just a moment, her brows contracted into a sharp wince. "They're almost done, Boss Bot. Once Bulk finishes recalibrating the containment field, we should have a sustainable oxygen/carbon dioxide flow on the outer decks."

Commander Magnus hadn't lived for so long by not paying attention to details. He had heard the other Wrecker's hissing intake of breath. "What's the matter, Miko? Is it your arm?"

The human grimaced and shrugged. She glanced down at the Cybertronian prosthetic and flexed it, earning herself a twinge of discomfort. The prosthetic was exceptionally high quality: she still had feeling in her fingers, it responded instantaneously to commands from her brain, and it was surprisingly lightweight. It was not, however, without its own unique issues, lingering phantom pain among them. She'd lost the limb during a skirmish with MECH in Tokyo two years before, resulting in the complete destruction of an entire city block which had contained her childhood home...and her parents. It had taken months for her to adapt to the new limb, and she was still going to virtual counseling sessions once or twice a month with her current legal guardian, a Mr. Kaito Tezuka.

"Yep," Miko sighed and rotated the prosthetic with a grimace, "It's the arm. It always acts up a little when it's cold."

Ultra Magnus nodded sympathetically. "It has gotten cold recently, hasn't it? I'll have to ask engineering to do something about that."

He held out one hand, and the girl made an agile scramble up to perch on his shoulder. "Let's see if we can't find Wheeljack and the Rookie," he suggested, subspacing the datapad.

As the pair left the hangar, neither saw the _Storm-bringer's_ alarm systems spring to life, warning of an unidentified mass floating near the colony.

* * *

_Ismaros, city of Eden_

Jack awoke early, as was his habit. The house was dark and still, which meant that his mother wasn't up yet. Jack set a pot of tea boiling -- no coffee, as supply ships from Earth were a little delayed this cycle -- and snagged a piece of fruit from a bowl on the table before returning to his room to get dressed. June would likely have a fit about fruit juice and seeds on the carpet in his room, but Jack figured he'd have it cleaned up before she found out.

One month had passed since the disastrous mission to Outpost Gallimimus and, although you couldn't tell by looking at the surface, those at the Capitol were very worried. They had reassigned the entire Sector Sweep team to be part of an early warning initiative developed by Prowl. Arcee and Jack had been sent from one end of the city to the other, warning various municipal employees and testing defenses. Half the time, Arcee was training with the militia during the week, and Jack was stuck in lower-level council meetings in a semi-secretarial position with Prowl or occasionally Optimus.

So far the only danger they'd come across was a toothy, unpleasant creature in the terrace fields. It had been deterred fairly easily by a pair of warriors like them, but Optimus had insisted that they warn local parents all the same. Especially since the blasted thing had nearly scared the life out of a local sparkling not two weeks ago. Springer, in the meantime, had been sent with Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Ironhide to investigate the wreckage of Outpost Gallimimus for a clue to the identity of the strange attackers. As Optimus had suspected, the Council had agreed that a full investigation was necessary.

Jack shrugged on his navy blue uniform and tugged on his boots. He and Arcee would be joining Prowl to scan the rings around Ismaros today. There had been talk of putting up shields in the rings, but there would have to be a survey first. To anchor shield generators in strategic places around the floating debris would be lengthy and dangerous work, not to mention costly. Before any measures were taken to fund the project, the chances of success would have to be evaluated.

Arcee wasn't at the house when he got up, so Jack headed for the archives on foot.

* * *

Arcee hadn't slept much the night before, and with good reason. Against her better judgment, she had allowed her sisters Chromia and Moonracer to drag her the _Aspen and Iris_ , a public house. Chromia was there for something called "mead" that was coming in from the Kaonian provinces. Arcee quickly decided that she didn't like the smell and stuck to mid-grade energon. Moonracer, after only five minutes in the establishment, had somehow cajoled a pair of combiners into arm wrestling.

(Quite literally, they detached their arms and let them fight.)

A crowd quickly gathered to place bets on the combatants. Chromia stood over them all with a pleased grin, acting as a judge. Arcee severely hoped that no one who outranked her would enter in the next few hours. This was just embarrassing.

"I can't _believe_ I'm related to you two!" Arcee had groaned, scooting further into the dark corner they'd chosen.

Chromia smirked at her. "You need to loosen up, little sister. All this Creepy Mystery Attack business will overwhelm you if you don't let off some steam every now and then!"

"And the shooting range doesn't count!" Moonracer declared, seemingly popping up out of nowhere. The other two scarcely blinked an optic. By now they were used to their sister's bizarre tendencies. Either she was the sneakiest femme alive, or she was warping time and space. Arcee didn't even care which one it was anymore.

The light green femme bounced away from the table. "Hey, watch this! I bet if I start singing the Insecticon Drinking Song, I can get five mechs to join in!"

Arcee stared at her. "You're overcharged, aren't you?"

Chromia shook her helm. "Nope, just Moonracer." The lighter blue femme stood up with a sigh. "I'mma make sure she doesn't start that song about the cat and the moon again. You _know_ what happens when she gets a musical number started." Chromia marched over to drag Moonracer away from the musicians, then turned to shout over her shoulder, "Try to enjoy yourself a little, ok?"

Arcee humphed noncommittally. She did smile a little when her sisters accidentally started an impromptu karaoke session, but the other patrons clearly had better things to spend their money on than singing lessons, so the smile soon turned into a pained wince. Every surface of the tables and walls seemed to have been designed to catch the horrendously off-key voices and throw them right back into Arcee's audial receptors.

She was about to head for the outside balcony when her internal scanners picked up the words, " _...seen attacks like this before._ "

Desperately trying to tune out the surrounding cacophony and focus on that one voice, Arcee listened closely.

" _Way back near the beginning of the Allied Exploration Initiative, it was_ ," the creaking voice continued, " _Whole bases would just vanish overnight. Couldn't call it Decepticons, there weren't none left-not officially._ "

Arcee left her corner to find the owner of the voice. Just a few tables away, an old, old Seeker with red and gold highlights on his rusty armor sat on a bench. A younger, blue and silver Seeker sat next to him with a slightly bored look on his face. Clearly, he'd heard this story before. He couldn't have been any older than the Trine from Kaon, making Arcee wonder why someone his age was in a public house.

Arcee approached the two. "Hi. Forgive me, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but what were you saying about bases vanishing?"

The cloudy red optics lit up at the fresh audience. "Jetfire," he wheezed, holding out a taloned hand, "And this is my grandson, Jetstorm."

"Arcee," the femme replied.

"Yes, we know who you are," Jetstorm remarked. Arcee blinked at the young mech's rudeness. But then, in an atmosphere like this, perhaps politeness was too much to hope for. Jetfire picked up his tale again.

"I went to investigate the destruction of _Cygnus 26_ with my team," he said.

Arcee's optics lit with recognition. All Alliance members remembered the doomed ship _Cygnus 26_ ; it had been carrying supplies to one of the first colonies, but never made its destination. It had never been clear what had happened, though.

"Ten mechs go into the ship," Jetfire murmured in a vacant tone, "three mechs come out. Soul-snatchers took the rest.*"

"Soul-snatchers, Grandsire? _Really?_ Those are barrack-room tales to scare younglings!" Jetstorm snorted.

The old one went on as if he'd never been interrupted. "You ever see a Soul-snatcher? You won't until it's too late. They got cloaks, you know. Don't let anybot see them before they're good and ready. Pit-spawned wicked, they are. And their optics-" he shuddered- "They're like a dead thing-no spark to 'em. Until they get their claws in a mech, and then their eyes just _blaze_ with unholy light. Me and two others got off that ship, loose-armored and barely sane. HQ didn't believe us, miss. Now they've made it out here, and it's going to take more than a level 9 containment field to keep 'em off!"

There didn't seem to be much to be said after this, but Jetfire stared very hard at Arcee for a long time. When it became awkward, the femme thanked him for his information and crept back to her table, where her sisters had scarcely noticed her absence.

Even after leaving the _Aspen and Iris_ , near dragging Moonracer, who was not ready to go, Arcee kept turning Jetfire's words over in her processor. Soul-snatchers, eh? She vaguely recalled hearing stories about them when she was stationed on Earth. ...Chromia had ended up checking under her recharge bunk every night for a week. The small Cybertronian decided that this warranted further research.

After dropping her sisters off at their respective quarters, Arcee headed for the central archives. If any place was going to have the information she wanted, it would be here. By this time it was near the middle of the night, and the watchmen greeted her with confusion as she drove past them. Mentally thanking Optimus for her security access-pass, the cycle-bot made her way to the nearest online data kiosk. The floors below still hummed with activity, being sorting areas for books and datapads, but the upper floors were as still as death.

"Ok," she muttered, and winced at the echo, "Soul-snatchers."

Thin servos danced over the keyboard. A dull ping echoed through the empty room, and three results flashed upon the screens.

" _On the use of Mythical Terrors as Societal Controls_. Well that's probably not it," Arcee grumbled. She moved on to the next one. " _Soul-Snatchers! Don't scream, they already know you're there!_." The femme groaned. " _Definitely_ not that one! Ok, number three..."

She selected the last result, magnifying it. "Well, this looks promising. _Ten Cycles of Terror: the truth behind the Cygnus 26 Incident_."

Arcee tapped the left screen to indicate that she needed the file. "What the- Inter-library loan only?! Agh, stupid database!"

Irritated, she requested the file and began a new search.

"Incident report: Cygnus 26."  
No results.

"Security access, level 10. Commander Arcee. Incident report: Cygnus 26," she repeated. A folder appeared on the screen to the right, which she quickly moved to the center and opened. In cheerful glyphs across the top of the page, it read: "This file is in Binary. Use AutoTranslate?"

_All I want is an incident report!_ Arcee thought, _Is that too much to ask?!_

With an exasperated sigh, she selected Auto-Translate and watched the page divide into seven individual files: _Cygnus 26_ 's ship logs, the investigation team's initial report, the incident report, two medics' evaluations of the survivors, a transcript of an Allied Exploration Initiative council meeting, and a file simply labeled ".Sparkeater_[creature]." Most of the files, Arcee notes, had been compiled by Optimus Prime within the last two months. The level of encryption he'd placed on them suggested that he'd had to hack the files elsewhere and was now trying to fortify them against unsolicited editing. That...boded ill.

Her own spark clenched nervously as she read the multiple reports. Ice cold atmospheric phenomena, no visible reported attackers, and utter carnage left behind. It sounded too familiar to be tossed aside as coincidence. Clearly, these attacks had happened before, four years ago with the _Cygnus 26_ Incident. Why then, did the information only make it to the Edenite Council after Optimus located it? Arcee smirked at the thought of someone, somewhere thinking their secret was still safe. No one, not even Rafael, could out-hack Orion Pax! Well, Soundwave might be able to, but Arcee didn't think he had much interest in the idea.

" _Further investigation after Jetfire's testimony warranted the quarantining of the Cygnus 26 in a Level 9 containment field, effectively trapping the responsible parties_ ," Arcee read aloud. _Hm, 'effectively trapping', really? Then what are the other reports? Copycat killers?_ Running a hand over her aching helm in frustration, Arcee moved to the "Sparkeater" file.

It was encyclopedic in nature, and unfortunately rather vague. The blue femme glanced around the darkened and empty floor before reading on. "*Sparkeaters are powerful and monstrous predators, so rarely seen that they are largely believed by Cybertronians to be mythical. As such, mere mention of them can invoke a sense of supernatural terror even among battle-hardened warriors. Little is firmly known of their habits or origin..." She trailed off. _Scrap. Scrap scrap scrap! she thought, What did we get ourselves into this time?!_   
Arcee's processor began compiling probabilities and projected outcomes despite her best efforts. Two more hours passed before she had read enough to satisfy her need for evidence.

When she joined Jack and Prowl later that morning, she was tense. Jack hadn't seen her like this since the day they'd stumbled upon Airachnid's crashed ship, years ago.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asked. His partner smiled at him, but there was no humor in her expression.

"You and I are officially bad news magnets," she said dryly.

"That sounds ominous, Arcee," Prowl interrupted the conversation with a polite cough. "What, precisely, have the two of you done _this_ time?"

Arcee was a touch offended by that, but fair was fair. She and Jack had caused a bit of mayhem here and there in the colony that Prowl had had to clean up afterwards in the past.

Prowl raised an eyebrow as the femme explained what she had learned about the possible identity of the mystery attackers. The tactician frowned. "If this is true, the Kaonian provinces must be warned immediately!" he stated, "Your inquiry into the matter suggests that the next projected attack will be within Megatronus's borders unless measures are taken against it."

Chevron glittering as he whirled, the head of colony security fixed an intense gaze on the human on the gantry beside him.  
"Captain Darby, as Optimus is currently sequestered with the Edenite Council discussing the benefits of the shield program, it falls to us to inform Megatronus."

"Falls to _Jack_ , you mean," Arcee guessed his meaning, "He won't recognize you as having authority to treat with him, and he and I have got bad blood between us. He might actually humor Jack with an audience, because he's so young."

Of course, there was also the matter of opening an official channel to the Kaonian colony without Optimus Prime's data signature to verify its authenticity. It would not be a simple matter to navigate if anyone other than Megatronus were to answer the comm.

Jack grimaced. "Gee, _thanks_ Arcee. I feel so confident now!"

Concerned enough that he failed to recognize the sarcasm in the human's voice, Prowl nodded. "Very well, as you are confident, I expect you will establish communication shortly. You are both excused from the survey." As the tactician transformed and rolled out, the partners stared at each other in dismay, each thinking the same thing.

"Scrap!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Arcee's experience with the library computer is based on the fact that library databases never seem to be helpful when I need them to be...**
> 
> **Also, the definition of Sparkeaters comes from /wiki/Sparkeater_(creature). Although, they're considerably different in my story. (They hadn't appeared much in comics when I wrote this in 2013).**
> 
> *because JAWS, that's why


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which daytrips to the Kaon provinces turn out to be more trouble than they're worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine the song Megatronus is singing as https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFaLGkjM9fc 
> 
> starting with the next chapter, the chapter summaries will be written a little bit differently. I don't remember why I first did it when I was writing this four years ago, but it was kind of cool and I'm going to keep it.

_Pred'akngard, Sector 12E_

Jack did not comm Kaon right at the moment Prowl left. The satellite array necessary to contact other colonies from the Eden security tower would take several minutes to line up. In the meantime, Jack had plenty of time to think about everything that could go wrong. And there was a _lot_ that could go wrong. He gazed up at Arcee nervously.

"Did you mean what you said before?" he asked.

"About you being the only one Megatronus would let talk to him right now? Yeah, I meant it," Arcee replied.

The human crossed his arms and fidgeted. It seemed like a breach of protocol to contact Pred'akngard without Optimus's knowledge or permission, but Prowl technically outranked Jack, -- who was not allowed to use his "honorary Prime" rank on Ismaros for the time being -- so he wasn't sure he could refuse.

When Jack did contact the Kaonian Capitol, it was not Megatronus who answered. The green and purple Decepticon was definitely not among the more humanoid Cybertronians, nor was he among the most polite. He tended to view all organic life as barely tolerable, and humans in particular as noisy nuisances who had no business operating on an equal footing with Cybertronians.

**_"What do you want, fleshling?"_** a gruff voice demanded, **_"the glorious Lord Megatron has no time for your filth!"_**

Jack fought down the urge to facepalm. "Lugnut, where is Megatronus Prime?" he asked calmly. The brutish mech growled, apparently displeased that his usual intimidation spiel had gone wholly unnoticed.

**_"What business does an insignificant smear of cells have with such a great warrior?"_ **

A condescending chuckle sounded from behind the cantankerous titan.

**_"Aw, Luggy, you really shouldn't talk about yourself like that!"_** Slipstream beamed angelically and batted her optic fringes.

**_"Who are you terrorizing now, you pompous old windbag?"_** Sunstorm sneered, elbowing his brother and sister jovially.

And that was when pandemonium broke loose.

Jack waited patiently on the other end of the line as a scuffle broke out between Lugnut and the Trine for possession of the comm. Between crashes, the sounds of punches, and threats of dire punishment, Slipstream snatched the device.

**_"Pred'akngard, Main Hall. Slipstream speaking,"_** the youngling sang gaily.

Jack paced the balcony with the comm in his hand. "I can see that," he sighed. "Slipstream, where is Megatronus? I have urgent news regarding a certain incident we were both party to." On any other occasion, he might've at least spared time for pleasantries to exchange, but time was short and he was growing impatient.

Ah. Politics. And possibly consequences beyond grounding.. The young femme didn't like the sound of _that_ in the slightest. _**"Just a minute,"**_ she said in a serious tone that was very much at odds with the playful way she'd entered the conversation, **_"the Prime is in his forge. I'll let him know you're on the line."_**

* * *

_In Pred'akngard_

Slipstream opened a hailing frequency to the forge, then paused with a little frown. "What name should I say?" she asked the human on the screen, "I hear you've got two of them, after all."

The human frowned. **_"Just say it's Captain Darby. He'll know who it is."_**

The Trine glanced at each other, amused. "Do we do it?" Ramjet asked from his position on top of Lugnut's helm, where he'd been clinging like a monkey to cover the mech's optics.

"Do we have a choice?" his sister replied dryly.

Slipstream matched the frequency to a search engine in the comms to locate Megatronus's coordinates. The security monitor in the forge flickered to life, giving the four Kaonians a dim view of the room and of Megatronus's back. The massive mech did not notice the screen in the slightest, wholly focused on his task. As the ringing blows of the hammer built up a steady cadence, the ex-warlord's stentorian baritone rose and fell to match. The Trine and Lugnut watched in respectful silence for a while before Sunstorm turned to the comm.

"Hey, uh, Captain? So...I think it'll be easier if we just send you a Space Bridge. He can't hear us." He cast a worried glance over his shoulder at Lugnut, who was in a fouler mood than usual thanks to their intervention, but their recurring nemesis was distracted.

* * *

In Eden, Jack held a brief, whispered conference with Arcee. "Do you think it's safe to go over there alone?" he wondered. Certainly, if there was no other way, he'd do it. Still, he would rather Optimus went instead. Especially with Megatronus's self-appointed guard dog having been provoked.

Arcee shook her helm. "I doubt it, but this could be life or death for them. Go ahead and go, I'll let Optimus know what's going on, and he'll probably join you as soon as he's out of the meeting."

Well that, at least, was reassuring. Nothing could go too far wrong if Optimus was going to join him. The young Captain placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Thank you, Arcee," he said softly. Then he turned back to the screen.

"Whenever you're ready," he told Sunstorm.

Jack stepped through the portal to find the Cybertronians still watching the screen with rapt attention. He couldn't help but see why. Despite all suggested evidence to the contrary, the mech really did have a mesmerizing voice. Perhaps that was part of what had drawn listeners to him in the days before the Cybertronian civil war? Jack shook himself and approached the pale purple youngling, who glanced down at him as if surprised to see him.

"Slipstream, I have to talk to him," he stated firmly.

**"Bring him to the Forge,"** Megatronus snapped suddenly, startling them all, **"And turn that screen off! I won't have you all spying on me!"**

The young Seekers gulped and did as he said. Ramjet tiptoed and flicked the switch that sent the screen into a neutral blue. His wings twitched in a nervous cadence that only his siblings could read as he asked who would take Captain Darby to Megatronus Prime.

"Here Sunny, take him to the Forge," Slipstream ordered.

"Me?! I opened the bridge!" Sunstorm protested indignantly, "Make Ram do it." He cast a swift look over his shoulder at Lugnut, who seemed to be preparing to say something, and then stared meaningfully at Slipstream. His sister's optics widened a moment, then she nodded.

Their eager-to-please sibling instantly agreed, catching their drift. "I can do it, guys! Be right back!" 

Jack followed the young Seeker down a maze of torchlit corridors, wondering whether he himself had ever been that young and immature. Surely he must have been, but it seemed like a very long time ago! For their sakes, he prayed that the threat of the Soul-snatchers would pass by soon. Ramjet led the captain to a pair of heavy stone doors, carved with depictions of Predacons in flight.

"Give me a sec, this is heavier than it looks," the youngling apologized with a shrug.

Jack fidgeted a little as Ramjet set his full weight against the door, and he couldn't help glancing around to make sure the infuriated Lugnut had not followed them.

"Don't worry about Luggy," Ramjet grunted, as if guessing his thoughts, "He's a scraphead, yeah, but I don't think he's ever _actually_ killed a human. He just talks about it a lot. And fights with my brother and sister and me. Which we get in trouble for. Which is _so_ not fair!" With this little burst of indignation he finally managed to make progress with the heavy entryway.

The doors opened slowly and with a groan. Jack was ushered into the oppressive heat, and then Ramjet retreated, ostensibly to rally to his siblings' defense. Jack tried not to jump as the door shut fast behind him. It was utterly dark, save for the glow of the fires.

"You. Why have you come to Pred'akngard?" Megatronus asked in a harsh voice. The Prime appeared to be irritable: this was a time for diplomacy.

"Forgive me, Prime. I should have asked your leave before entering your home. The Trine believed that you would not be able to hear the comm, and Lugnut refused to let me speak to you," Jack said humbly. His pulse hammered in his ears, for here he had no backup. Should Megatronus decide to take offense, there wasn't much he could do about it.

"You've never come alone, son of Optimus. Matters must be truly dire if they sent a _sparkling_ to seek an audience with a Prime."

Megatronus was testing him, watching to see whether he was intimidated. Jack stood straight and tall under the scarlet scrutiny of the Prime's optics, peering at him over the edge of one broad pauldron, and spoke formally -- as Megatronus had cued him to do by using his private title.

"New information has come to light concerning the growing trend of attacks on outposts, Megatronus Prime. My father is in council now, otherwise he would bring you the news himself." Jack nearly stumbled over the words "my father", but he had been practicing what to say in private negotiations with Cybertronian leaders during lessons with Optimus over the last year, making it slightly less strange than he'd been afraid it would be.

The Prime set aside the hammer -- which had not once been still -- and, taking two delicate daggers from the anvil, plunged his arms into a vat of cold water. He then turned to face the Boy as steam curled around his shoulders.

"Speak, Nephew."

Jack stifled a twitch at the odd form of address -- but then, Megatronus _was_ inclined to refer to Optimus as family -- and explained the rumors of Sparkeaters and the precautions of Level 9 containment fields. "My partner has discovered that four years ago, an identical incident was responsible for the destruction of the _Cygnus 26_ ," he finished. Megatronus uttered a curse in his own tongue.

"If, as you say, this has happened before, why was I not informed?" he snarled. The steam that had not yet dissipated wreathed his helm like a storm cloud, giving him the appearance of an angry god.

Jack wisely took a step back before answering, losing a little of his formality with his nerve. "That's the weird part. It seems that someone in the Initiative has been encrypting the information for the last three years, hiding it. Only recently was it found and compiled by Optimus Prime. But we don't know who tried to hide it, or why, or whether they're part of the Ismaros colony or another."

Megatronus clenched his teeth. "This bodes ill for our people," he murmured, more to himself than to Jack. A thought flashed across his optics, and the old warrior seized a vat of molten metal. "Go," he rasped.

Jack nodded once in acquiescence of the clear dismissal, then realized that he had no way to open the heavy door on his own. Embarrassed, he turned back to the imposing figure in the forge, who hunched Hephaestus-like hovering over a new project.

"Megatronus? I can't get out," the boy mumbled, hoping he wasn't blushing. Megatronus seemed to ignore him, so he tried again, a little louder.

"Megatronus? Sir?" The giant remained at his post.

"Prime?"

Frustrated, Jack finally shouted, " _Uncle?_ "

At this, Megatronus looked up. "You're still here?" Then he remembered. "Ah yes, I'd forgotten the door." With a tug of one hand, the door swung open, letting a rather disgruntled Captain Darby out.

"Nevermind," his "uncle" smirked, "I expect it won't be much longer before you'll be able to open this door yourself!" Then he scowled. "But you'd better not do so when I'm not here!"  
Jack gave him a strange look and departed. He would have to ask Optimus whether Megatronus knew about his impending Metamorphosis.

The great smith turned back to his tools, pretense of levity forgotten. One thought echoed relentlessly in his processor like the ringing of the anvil: _Prepare them. Prepare them. Prepare them._

His optics wandered to look at the little daggers, cooling in the trough. They would do for Ramjet, he had already decided. Before the metal finished hardening, he carved glyphs for protection and loyalty into the blade of one, and glyphs for speed and cunning into the other with one sharp servo.

Upon the wall hung ornate armor he intended for Sunstorm, and a matchless blade for Slipstream. Some of his best works, quite frankly. It hadn't been until Captain Darby had spoken to him that he realized how young and vulnerable his brother's heir was. Once the Boy Metamorphosed, he would need a weapon as well. Megatronus looked back down at the frame he was pouring the liquid Cybertronium into. _Well then. A sword worthy of a Prime it shall be,_ he thought.

* * *

Optimus stepped out of the council chambers and fought the urge to shake his helm in frustration. That some people could be so stubborn as to impede every step of a motion merely because a political opponent of theirs was supporting it amazed him. The meeting had nearly devolved into a shouting match by the end, and he'd been forced to pull rank to silence them.

They were unhappy with it, of course, but when the city of Eden had decided to follow the political model of the Autobots, that had left the Primes with most of the power. Not that the local Prime had ever _wanted_ that kind of power, but the decision hadn't really been his in the end. So if Optimus made a decision, it was final, and no amount of debating was going to change it. Optimus was grateful that he had only needed to order the board members to behave like adults. Hopefully they would be more reasonable after the recess. He found Arcee waiting anxiously beside the door as he walked out.

"Arcee?"

His gentle voice was an invitation to speak.

The blue femme fell into step beside the Prime. "Optimus, last night I was reading your files on the Kaon attacks, and I spoke to a survivor of the _Cygnus 26_ Incident," she said in a low voice.

Optimus fixed a worried gaze on her. "You believe they are connected."

"Yes sir," Arcee continued, "and I've traced the information to creatures called Sparkeaters."

"Soul-snatchers?" Optimus's faceplates were grim.

"I had recently begun to suspect that they were not as mythical as the Exploration Initiative hopes, but I wished to gather more evidence before I brought it up." Optimus noticed something, or rather, the lack of something. He frowned, a mild premonition of trouble filtering through his logic circuits. "Arcee...where is your partner?"  
Arcee straightened her shoulder guards and explained what Prowl had said, and the Space Bridge to Pred'akngard that Jack had stepped through.

A glyph message from Pred'akngard pinged in the Prime's processor.

**_We need to talk._ **

Without Arcee's previous explanation, the four words would have been ominous indeed. "Arcee, go to the Esquivel family and ask Rafael to appropriate the data core of the Archive sub-levels. He may need to bypass some security, but if he meets any resistance, tell him to say he's acting on my orders," Optimus ordered suddenly, "Then meet me at the Space Bridge. I must speak with my brother, and you must retrieve your partner."

"Wait!" Arcee squeaked, "You're not taking me with you, are you? Megatronus and I get along like turbofoxes and petrorabbits!"

But Optimus's tone brooked no room for argument.

* * *

_Floating Colony 21186D: outer hull_

**Crash!**

"Ow!" The young mech clasped both hands to his helm and sent a baleful glare at his assailant. " _Scrap_ , that hurt!"

An older mech shifted the long metal beam he held to his other shoulder. He snickered as the youngling ducked again with a screech, doorwings flaring out in alarm. "Sorry Rookie, didn't see ya there!"

The victim ignored Wheeljack's smug grin and went back to welding, petulantly pulling his goggles down tighter than necessary.

A comforting hand ruffled his helm. "Jackie pickin' on you again?" Miko asked from inside the Apex Armor.

Hot Shot shrugged. "I know he's just messing with me, but geez!"

Miko laughed and began to sort through the exposed wires on the hull. "It's all good, kid. If he ever gets on your nerves too much, let me know," she made a fist and winked.

Hot Shot looked up at the young woman and -- not for the first time -- marveled that someone who was biologically and chronologically younger than him could seem so much older. Humans were odd like that. Of course, Wheeljack had said once that if he were to do that math to see how old he was in "human-years", he probably _would_ be younger than Miko.

A jubilant shout arose from several yards away, where Bulkhead had found the main damage.

"Hey guys! I think we found what made the lights go out in Seven Forward!" he called. Miko, Hot Shot, and Wheeljack slowly made their way over to him. Something had deeply scored the plating of the hull, actually slicing through two levels of reinforcement to pierce a main halogen line.

Miko whistled appreciatively at the sight. "That was no asteroid! What do you think did that?"

While Bulkhead and the younger Wreckers bent over the damage with interest, Wheeljack began to scan the surrounding area. He wouldn't call it fear, exactly, but some kind of apprehensiveness began to swirl within his spark casing and create escape route projections in his processor. _Please, please just be paranoia_ he thought. Suddenly Miko's head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Something's wrong," she hissed. 

That was it. If a human got a Bad Feeling, the Wreckers knew it was time to scram. 

Wheeljack drew his swords as an alarm sounded on their wrist communicators. Bulkhead blinked as he stared at his. The readings didn't make any sense! According to the scanners, there were several beings surrounding them, but he could see no such thing. Even cloaked targets should've given off at least a little visual distortion. 

Miko stood slowly. "Guys, make for the airlock -- nice and easy," she murmured, "Rookie goes first." 

Hot Shot gulped and began to ease his way across the Cybertronium plating, hardly daring to move faster than a shuffle. Wheeljack slid gracefully behind him so that Hot Shot's doorwings and his winglets nearly touched. Swords still raised, his optics darted to and fro. 

Bulkhead turned to his partner. "Your turn, Miko," he rumbled. 

Miko shook her head within the armor. "We go together, Bulk. I'll watch your back!" 

The feeling of paranoia that had come over them strengthened, drawing near to panic. As the Wreckers barely restrained themselves from breaking into a run, they heard it: 

_Scrape, hiss. Scrape, hiss. Scrape, hiss._

"Time's up!" Wheeljack said sharply. With one hand, he took hold of Hot Shot's arm. With the other, he fished out a grenade. 

"Fire in the hole!" he mouthed to Bulkhead before lobbing it in the direction of the disconcerting noises. The stun grenade set up a brilliant flash, nearly blinding the Wreckers. 

For just a moment, Miko thought she saw a face: angelically beautiful and twisted with hatred. Then it was gone and spots swam before her eyes. 

"Go!" Wheeljack roared. They did not hesitate. The Wreckers dove through the hatch with a still disoriented Miko bringing up the rear. 

Bulkhead turned in time to see a Shape, black against the stars, fly at Miko. Before he could shout a warning, she cried out in pain, and a rush of vapor revealed that the Armor had been compromised. With an enraged cry, Bulkhead rushed the Shape, catching it off guard. His fist closed around something that felt like softened metal, and with a mighty heave he tore it from the deck and flung it into the ether. 

Miko crouched at the opening of the hatch in shock, unable to process that her supply of oxygen was leaking into space, even as something warm trickled down her back. Bulkhead thundered towards the airlock, scooping his injured partner up into his arms. 

"Jackie! Call Magnus!" he yelled as he dropped inside. 

Hot Shot quickly closed the blast doors under the hatch and transformed into a compact car. "I'll get a medic!" he sped away, leaving Bulkhead and Miko alone in the hangar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next time, on **Colony 21196D: Survival** ,_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _'Ultra Magnus's brow furrowed. "Get this girl in a Cocoon! Now!"_
> 
>  
> 
> _Bulkhead gaped. "Metamorphosis? But sir! She's not twenty one yet! It's illegal!"_
> 
>  
> 
> _Magnus whirled to face the Wrecker with danger in his optics. "It's the Cocoon or a Coffin, soldier! If she doesn't transform now, she'll die!"_


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Last time, on "Survival":**
> 
>  
> 
> _Miko crouched at the opening of the hatch in shock, unable to process that her supply of oxygen was leaking into space, even as something warm trickled down her back._
> 
>  
> 
> _Bulkhead thundered towards the airlock, scooping his injured partner up into his arms. "Jackie! Call Magnus!"'_

_Colony 21186D: H-Deck_

Sirens blared, and a hurricane of activity filled the hallway. The world spun in vivid hues of red before Miko's eyes as they pulled her out of the armor. Dimly, it occurred to her that something had struck her -- debris, perhaps? -- and she should have been in pain. But she couldn't feel it. The ringing in her ears eclipsed the babble of concerned voices.

"How is-"

"-spinal injur-"

"Thirty cc's!"

"-poison counteracting-"

"Will she-?"

"-organ failure imminent!"

"Looks like paralysis-"

"-losing her!"

It was so  _cold_. Why was she so cold? All Miko wanted was to curl up and sleep, why weren't they letting her move? She wanted to cry, but her eyes only sent silent tears sliding down her immobile face.  
The hover stretcher fairly flew down the hall, pushed by grim-faced orderlies and followed by Bulkhead. Ultra Magnus was waiting in the operating chamber with one of the ship's surgeons. Neither looked hopeful.

"Let me see her," the commander said softly.

"Sir, if we move her, we run an even greater risk of-"

" _Let me see her_!"

The attendant shut his mouth and stepped back. The leader of the Wreckers knelt beside the gurney and gently lifted the shivering, comatose human from it. She was all too small, too fragile against his palm.   
Swiftly, his processor raced through a number of possible scenarios, none them ending happily. Magnus turned to the surgeon.

"Inform Nakadai's next of kin," he ordered, "Her care has been remanded to my team's facilities."

"Commander, you need parental consent, she's technically still a minor by the dual-species count!" the surgeon protested.

"I _know_! Send me the paperwork later!" Magnus snapped as he hurriedly exited the hospital deck, clutching his injured Wrecker close to his spark.

"Smokescreen, get a med room ready," he whispered into his comm.

Bulkhead kept up the pace behind his leader, and they made their anxious way through the three decks separating them from the Wreckers' quarters.

"Stay awake soldier, do you hear me?" Ultra Magnus huffed as they neared their destination, "You do  _not_  have my permission to die!"  
_She's lost enough already,_ he thought, half introspection and half prayer,  _Don't take her life. Don't take her._

Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and Hot Shot were waiting in the sterilized chamber with their medic, Red Alert. The red and white femme instantly took charge.

"Wheeljack, get those younglings out of here! Commander, put Miko on the scan table: I need to see the extent of the damage." Protesting mightily, Hot Shot and Smokescreen were shoved out of room and the door locked behind them.  
"There," the medic intoned with a knowing look, "Now I assume if you've got anything risky planned, they can say they knew nothing about it."

Ultra Magnus nodded gratefully. Red Alert had served with the Wreckers long before coming to the Colony. She knew  _exactly_ how much of his stern, law-abiding nature was real, and how much was merely projected. She knew Miko's history with the Wreckers, and knew why Magnus had chosen to take a human holomatter avatar and spend two years on Earth before the launching of the colony. And even before the humans had ever come into the fight, before even the Civil War, she had been one of the Underground Medics Association, secretly providing medical care to the lowest castes and their sparklings in defiance of the Functionist ideals. If anyone could trusted with secrets, it was Red Alert.

Red Alert turned as the sensors she had attached to the patient began to shriek a warning. "By the Allspark!" she gasped, "Her internal organs are completely shutting down!"

Miko's eyes widened fractionally, but she made no sound.  
"It's gonna be okay, Miko," Bulkhead promised, voice tight.

"Don't tell her that, she knows it's a lie!" the doctor hissed, glaring, "Her spine is almost completely severed, she's in shock, and she's got an unidentified poison in her systems!"

Ultra Magnus's brow furrowed. He had hoped they would be able to avoid this, but- "Get this girl in a Cocoon! Now!"

Bulkhead gaped. "Metamorphosis? But sir! She's not twenty one yet! It's illegal!"

He didn't know Magnus had a loophole. But then, no one was  _supposed_ to know.  _Even if I had no way around the law, I would still make this call,_ Magnus decided, and whirled to face the Wrecker with danger in his optics. "It's the Cocoon or a Coffin, soldier! If she doesn't transform now, she'll die!"

The medic activated a glass dome that slid over Miko, isolating her from her fellow Wreckers. Faint wisps of multicolored vapors wavered over the young woman's head. Her eyelids drooped, and her muscles relaxed. "I'm putting her in an induced coma to minimize further degeneration until the Cocoon is ready," she explained, rushing back and forth, injecting substances under the dome.  
She looked up at the three remaining mechs. "One of you -- or all of you -- need to donate some CNA. I can't operate a Cocoon on just energon!"

Wordlessly, all three held out their arms for the needle. Red Alert scraped a small portion of mesh from between their servos and scanned it.

"Commander, your energon/isotope levels aren't going to assimilate well with her blood type while she's in this state," she said flatly. The disappointment -- and even _guilt_ \-- was almost a tangible thing as he stepped back.

"Bulkhead, your energon/isotope levels match, but you've still got the contaminant from the attacker on your armor -- it'll corrupt the solution."  
The green mech's optics swirled in horror and he stared down at his servos.

"I'll go straight to decontamination after this," he promised. "Maybe we can get some answers about those...whatever they were's from the toxin."

The femme nodded sharply, approving this course of action, then turned to Wheeljack. "Now you, you're lucky. You're what the humans would call O+ if you had blood. Bots with your energon/isotope ratio can donate CNA to anyone, really."  
Wheeljack looked relieved, as did the others. The sample from Wheeljack was entered into a computer that began to feed the information into a replicating device.

Wheeljack lay on a berth next to Miko's Cocoon as the computer began to formulate the solution needed to keep the girl alive during her transformation. She was several shades paler than she ought to have been, and whatever the poison was, it was showing up in dark streaks along her arms and throat. Maybe they'd only fought side by side for four, five years, but she was one of them. One of the Wreckers. Wheeljack winced as he watched the tiny chest rise and fall.

"Hey kiddo," he whispered, "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise."

"The tank will be ready in two hours," Red Alert informed Magnus somewhere behind him, "I will keep her in stasis lock until then."

Outside the medbay, Smokescreen kept an anxious vigil while Hot Shot paced.  
They had both known that there were risks inherent in a human joining the Wreckers. The Tokyo Battle two years ago was proof of that. But even so, it was too easy to forget that Miko  _wasn't_ one of them by birth. Even Smokescreen sometimes forgot that she wasn't a Minicon piloting a transtector. A tap at his arm caught his attention and he found the youngest Wrecker staring up at him from under his visor, looking distraught.

"Is she going to die?" the youngling whispered.

"I don't know, Hot Shot, I don't know."

* * *

_Pred'akngard: Megatronus's Forge_

Megatronus opened the door and stepped straight into another skirmish. Sunstorm was standing on a bench, holding Captain Darby over his head like an Olympic Torch. Slipstream was supporting a rather dented-looking Ramjet on one side, and an equally roughened Lugnut glared hatefully at them from the other side.  
_Oh not again!  
_ They did not appear to have noticed him yet. He stood frozen in the gap between the door and the forges, optics shifting from one side to the other.

"I don't care who started it!" Sunstorm was saying, "You do  _not_  go around _biting_ people! I mean, what the scrap, Ram? You're a Seeker!"

"But Lugnut hit first! I didn't bite him 'til after that!" his little brother whined.

Slipstream crossed her arms defiantly. "Come on, dude, he tried to _squish_ Darby!"

"I concur," the Darby in question gulped, "Squishing is bad. We have a very negative view of squishing around here."

Megatronus began to wish he'd never opened the door. Was it too much to ask for one day of quiet? If one was a Prime, the answer was evidently "no". How Optimus kept his sanity was beyond him. He stepped forward and let the door swing shut, then folded his arms and glared down at them all. This, thankfully, was just enough to get the attention of the miscreants.

"What is this? Must I intervene in petty brawls now? Explain yourselves!" he growled.

"Yes! You heard Lord Megatron: explain yourselves this instant!" Lugnut sneered. He sounded, Megatronus thought, just a touch too triumphant to have not been involved in the fracas.

"I was referring to you as well, Lugnut," the Prime said flatly. The atmosphere seemed to grow heavy around them as Lugnut stopped to contemplate the fact that "Lord Megatron" was demanding an explanation from  _him_ as well as the ever-rambunctious Trine.

"You can put me down now, Sunstorm," Jack said quietly, breaking the tension, "And, ah, thanks for the save."

"Oh! Right, my bad." The yellow Seeker gently placed the human on the floor, where he quickly dusted himself off. "You good?"

"All present and correct," Jack nodded back with a half smile.

Megatronus shut his optics, hoping to ward off an impending headache. It was a futile attempt. " _You_ ," he pointed at Jack, "Your father is on his way here to meet with me. You'll leave with him."  _Or else I'm throwing you through the Bridge as soon as it opens. Which Optimus may not necessarily approve of, but needs must._

He opened one optic to glare at Lugnut. " _You_ , report to Barricade, and stay there until I have time to deal with you."

The fiery gaze turned to the Trine. "And  _you_..." Megatronus shook his mighty helm. "My quarters.  _Now_."

Lugnut didn't seem to understand his predicament. Perhaps that was because in past incidents, it was usually the Trine that had suffered the brunt of the consequences for picking fights and insubordination. But now Megatronus recognized the look in Lugnut's optics and realized that he'd become arrogant, and too self-assured when it came to these conflicts. Lugnut seemed to have something against the Trine -- was he jealous? Did he resent the attention they received from Megatronus, even if half of that attention was "oh dear Primus what horrible predicament have you started _now?_ "  -- and as he passed Slipstream, the gargantuan ex-Decepticon muttered, "Insubordinate, human-loving  _Ahtzobahts_. You'll never be more than cannon fodder, the way you're going. Small wonder Airachnid left you!"

Slipstream's carefully defiant mask buckled and her mouth dropped open in shock. Few things could crack that mask, but casually bringing up the Trine's absentee Carrier -- a bit of a taboo topic around the colony -- had definitely done the trick.   
Megatronus was furious. Lugnut really  _had_ grown arrogant if he thought mentioning the traitor's name in his presence would go unanswered.

"Forget Barricade!" he thundered, murder in his optics, "Report directly to the brig. And stay there until called for!"

Captain Darby watched the exchange apprehensively, ready to dart under the bench if he had to. For a moment, Lugnut fixed a burning optic on him. It wasn't hate in his gaze, no more than a human would hate a cockroach. It was simple disgust, and a desire to exterminate. But it only lasted a second, then he turned to go. As the brute lumbered away, the Prime turned to the human.

"Boy," he said tiredly, "Please. Wait in the forge." He opened the door for Jack, who obliged. The door swung to with a low boom.

The silence in its wake was deafening. Ramjet was staring at the floor, face fallen, and Slipstream's wings were trembling in a potent mixture of anger and hurt. Sunstorm shifted awkwardly, then held out his arms and soon the other two were clinging to him like a lifeline. It was times like these that reminded Megatronus that they really were just children after all.

"He's a scrap-brained idiot, Slipstream!" Sunstorm snarled with more vehemence than Megatronus was used to hearing from him, "Don't waste your thoughts on him. Not a second, okay? He doesn't even deserve to be acknowledged."

Slipstream tightened her grip on her brothers. "I  _hate_  that guy," she whispered.

"Slipstream. Sunstorm. Ramjet."

The three looked up at their leader.  
Megatronus sighed and pulled a hand down his faceplate. " _Why_  does this keep happening, younglings? Help me understand," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

Sunstorm relinquished his younger brother and sister and moved to stand in front of them, wings raised protectively. "Prime, I swear before the Allspark that we did not instigate this."  
He thought a moment, then amended his statement. "Actually, I started something earlier when he wouldn't let the captain speak to you, but _this_ time he threw the first punch."

Megatronus noted that all three were scraped and dented, and Ramjet had a long, but shallow, gash down his faceplates that was sluggishly leaking energon. With a weary groan, he pulled open the door to the Forge.

"Get in there," he grumbled. Wings drooping, the three shuffled in. A bemused Jack was ushered out again before the Prime thought better of it and brought him back inside. He returned his attention to Starscream's children.

"This isn't the first time you've fought with Lugnut," he griped as he began to patch the three up. It was an observation, rather than a question.

"He always picks on 'Stream!" Ramjet complained, "And he won't shut up about  _the glorious days of the Decepticons_."

"And he talks a lot about squishing humans. Like, grossly descriptive stuff. It makes me uncomfortable," Slipstream added, arms crossed protectively over her spark.

Lugnut had always been a nuisance, but Megatronus had thought him too slow-witted to do any damage. What he had seen in the corridor today appeared to contradict that somewhat. Now, it seemed, he would have to go back through the incident reports and find out how many were  _not_  instigated by the Trine. He looked down at Jack, who had climbed up onto one of the barrels, presumably to keep out from underfoot.

"Can you confirm this?" Megatronus asked.

Jack nodded. "He found me in the corridor by myself, and was about ready to put an end to me then and there. If Sunstorm hadn't showed up when he did, I would be dead now," he said grimly, "Evidently, having the audacity to speak to you in person carries a death sentence for humans. It seems that on both sides there are those unwilling to let to of the past."

Slipstream snorted. "Don't even _try_ to make this a "we're both at fault" thing. The femme in 12C was eons better than Lugnut and you know it. I'd rather be stuck with her than him."

"Hey, c'mon. She  _punched_ you. That's  _not_ okay," Jack argued. "Don't let anybody tell you that's okay just because she didn't try to kill you."

Megatronus tuned out the following debate as an internal comm announced the arrival of Optimus and Arcee.  _Excellent timing_ , he thought dryly.

"Listen closely," Megatronus announced sharply, interrupting them, "I cannot speak for any past incidents until I have further data, which Soundwave _will_ be looking into. However, Lugnut _will_ be punished for his assault today, and _you_ will not be punished for defending yourselves and your cousin."

The Triplets and Jack exchanged confused looks.  _Cousin_? Jack shrugged expressively and they turned their attention back to the huge Prime.

"However," he was saying, "You  _did_  attack him earlier today without sufficient provocation. As Prime and as the leader of this colony, I cannot afford to show favoritism. You are aware of this, perhaps more so than any other mech or femme here. Therefore -" the younglings winced and waited for the bad news, "-you three are henceforth assigned to Colony 21186D."  
Megatronus's faceplates softened, and for just a moment it seemed as though his optics twinkled. "I am told they have a shortage of competent fliers aboard."

There was silence for three seconds, then Sunstorm whooped and punched the air, and Ramjet actually hugged Captain Darby. The human yelped in surprise, but Ramjet was fairly gentle despite his enthusiasm. Reaching around the two, Slipstream grabbed the Prime's hand.

"You're actually sending us to the exploration craft?" Her optics danced with a hope that was mingled with trepidation, as though she feared he'd retract his offer.

Megatronus nodded and, true to form, tried to look stern and imposing. "It is obvious that if I am to prevent further incidents, I must keep the three of you as far from Lugnut as is possible.," he scolded, "It is the logical decision!"  
The little femme squealed and threw her arms around his neck, completely ruining his intimidating look.

Optimus and Arcee were nearly bowled over as they neared the Forge. The Trine had come barreling out of the room in a frenzy of excitement, barely stopping to help Arcee to her pedes.

"Sorry, lady!" Ramjet squeaked, pausing to pat her hand as they dashed past.

Optimus chuckled quietly at the thoroughly baffled expression on his SIC's faceplates. One look at his brother's sober optics, however, was enough to remind him why they were there.

Jack hurried out to join his partner, stopping to give a perfunctory salute to his godfather, who nodded back with a grave affection of his own. He watched to ensure that Arcee and Jack left the hall together, then Optimus took his place in the Forge as the great doors shut once more.

"So," his brother began, "the ghost ship has returned to haunt us."

"So it would seem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time, on "Survival":**
> 
>  
> 
> _"We did everything we could. I'm so, so sorry, Commander."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"This isn't fair! She should be here!"_
> 
>  
> 
> _"Optimus, doesn't it bother you that the Cygnus 26 had neither passenger list nor cargo manifest?"_
> 
>  
> 
> _"If we are to understand our adversaries, we must go to the Cygnus 26."_


End file.
